~~~Stanley~~~

Stanley watched Nate closely, his hand tight around the teleport skill shard.

"Keep it. Hope it helps," Nate said, and the man truly seemed relaxed and not at all concerned with the power he was giving up.

"Why?"

"It doesn't call to me." Nate shrugged. "I trust my intuition."

The corpse of the teleporter sat up... and Stanley put the spear through its head. A thought struck him. Did zombies have skills? The one who killed Samantha did... was it different somehow? Or would zombie Maurice still be able to teleport if he hadn't dropped the skill shard? He had seen no other zombies that talked... and no noticeable skill use.

Stanley flew away from Nate. Though not too far. He was still debuffed and Caffeine was out of it. If anything dangerous showed up, he would totally use Nate as a human shield. But he couldn't sit still either.

The spear didn't require nearly as much power to wield, and it hurt the undead better than any other weapon he'd seen. Stanley didn't know why it worked that way, and it hadn't done so before that night Samantha spent protecting him, but it did now. So it was time to experiment and figure it out.

First off, it definitely burned the zombies. Wherever it touched them, their flesh... or even bones, would sizzle and burn. Or maybe melt was a better term. There were no obvious flames... Either way, the damage would spread beyond the initial strike.

It wasn't enough to make a serious difference, unfortunately. While it had seemed to cause pain to that one zombie… none of the regular ones seemed to care. The best he could say was that he no longer needed a clean head shot. Even a scratch on the side of the head would spread into the brain and kill the zombies. At least the weaker ones... The red eyes would burn too, but it was slower and stopped spreading faster.

Stanley kept at it while monitoring Nate's position. The other man never approached again. It was like he really didn't care about the core.

As for what to do with it, Stanley took his time deciding. He even briefly considered asking Nate if there was a better person to use it, ideally someone with space mana or another skill that might synergize well. Very briefly.

After almost getting killed by the last guy to have the skill, he couldn't risk a repeat. Better to waste it than have it turned against him. So he didn't consider all that long... and accepted the skill evolution. The one percent adaptable cost was negligible to the potential gains.

-1% Adaptable

Adapting Skill: Teleport

No Mana Detected.

No Space Aspect Detected.

Psionic Energy Detected.

Skill Adaptation Successful.

New Non-Class Skill Learned: (2/3)

Psionic Charge(Epic)

Take me that way.

User envelopes themselves in a bubble of Psionic energy which moves everything within rapidly in the desired direction. Increases resistance to all outside forces while active, but travel range will diminish under hostile conditions.

Skill Level Effects (Novice)

+1% Effective Willpower

+1% Duration

Shit. Stanley cursed quietly as the new skill knowledge entered his mind. It wasn't a teleport.

The only good thing was the bubble aspect, which should mean Caffeine could ride along... The damn knowledge was always so skimpy.

So he tested it. Just a short... charge.

The world appeared to shift around him... and he was a couple feet to the side. That was it. Not even a sensation of motion... Caffeine didn't stir at all, assuming he could even notice. Okay, maybe it's not that bad?

He reached further... and the restaurant shot past below him right before Stanley both closed his eyes and held his head. That motion without motion was slightly nauseating... and he'd just added another ten minutes to his debuff. Damn it!

Other than that, it wasn't bad. Definitely not what he'd hoped for, but usable. He just needed to test the whole 'outside forces' bit, both physical and magical. That experiment was likely to add to the debuff, so he'd have to wait for now. Also, he felt like he might increase the 'bubble' size. Though that would surely increase the cost as well.

The spear hadn't been in the bubble with him, but it followed behind, only slightly slower. That was another thing to test later, whether he could charge faster than he could throw the spear if he put some effort into it.

That left him time to kill zombies while he waited for the debuff...

Something else occurred to him. There was no way Nate had told him his real attributes. He'd only shared the base attributes, and knowing that was useless information. Everyone was probably the same. Nate had to have high percentage numbers on strength... likely dexterity as well... but he didn't know about vitality. He'd never seen the man get wounded...

Nate showed up two hours later. Timing Stanley only knew thanks to the debuff acting as a clock. "Ready for you."

Stanley didn't move. "I want your real stats, and don't lie to me. I saw that strike on Maurice."

"Of course," Nate smiled. "We got sidetracked before. My bad. I have a base plus two-hundred percent across the board. That boost increases in variable amounts between punches and kicks. The important bit I think you want, though, is it caps out around six-hundred percent. Oh, and that bigger boost is only for physical attributes."

He said it all so casually... Stanley couldn't tell if he was being straight up or just fantastic at lying. Either way, Stanley kept his distance. Nate's power, if he wasn't lying, and if there weren't other factors at play, then his power was close but not quite to the level of Stanley's. There was no way to say how that all panned out between willpower and strength... but maybe there was something to studying it.

Nate led him to the two truck trailers sitting in the street, and the sight brought back a wave of memories.

Stanley had to take a few moments. It felt like a lifetime ago when he'd roamed the country with Lee, pulling something like this behind them... how long was it really? A week? More? He... wasn't actually sure anymore.

Lee felt so far away... and something was still wrong with him. I'm coming, Lee.

"This work for you?" Nate asked, pulling him from his thoughts. "We pack in the slowest and weakest and you carry them?"

Stanley thought about it. How many F-grades could he carry like this? He'd never really tried carrying people inside of something else... Would it be easier or harder? Well, assuming he could carry them, it would definitely be easier to do so all at once than trying to hold each individual person.

"Won't know until I try in... twenty minutes. Load one trailer up by then and I'll give it a shot." This all felt like a big waste of time, but it wasn't like he could do much else at the moment... maybe he would gain some more willpower if carrying the people was hard enough? Especially if he went fast. "You know where you're going, right?"

"Maurice did a lot of scouting for us," Nate said. "Got us a few spots... but don't worry, you just gotta get us out to the wall. We can handle it from there."

"The loss of Maurice is going to hurt us," said a man Stanley had seen following Nate around, both taking and giving out orders. Hard not to see him with that bright orange hair...

"Maurice was a snake," Nate said quietly after walking away from the other people nearby. "I knew he was creeping on a few of the women already, but until he escalated to... something worse, we needed him."

"You never told me that..."

"James, I didn't tell anyone." Nate dropped a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're invaluable and I trust you completely, but you ain't exactly winning any awards for acting out here. Maurice could have bounced anytime, and I needed him to trust me..."

"So you could kill him?" Stanley butted into the conversation. "Keep your enemies close? Say, within arm's reach? Wait until they outlive their usefulness?"

"The world's changed, Stanley. Power rules more than ever. Real power. But you know that, don't you? I needed that creep to help me save everyone, so yes, I let him get away with some shit, including harassment. Some complained about it, and I talked to him, asked him to knock it off, and knew he didn't listen."

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"You knew about that and kept him around?" James looked betrayed.

"We needed him. Those women suffered, yes, but they lived. I considered it a fair trade, and would give the same or more leeway to anyone that we needed... but there is a limit. As long as he didn't push too far..."

"How far?" James demanded. "How many rapes and murders would you let him get away with?"

"None," Nate said, then hesitated. "None of our people, at least... I'm sure he's done worse before joining us."

"I have work to do." James stalked away, clearly upset about his fantasies not living up to reality.

"How many do I get?" Stanley asked. "You're so eager for my help, so where's my line?"

Nate smiled. "You are nothing like Maurice. I can tell that much. As for killing people... I don't think you do it for fun. All I can ask is for restraint. Lots of people on edge these days, tempers are short, and some are liable to mouth off or throw down in anger or fear. If your life's on the line, then do what you have to, but if not... please give me a chance to handle it."

Stanley studied him for a long moment. Nate was weird... but pragmatic. That was good, in that he seemed unlikely to suddenly decide mass murder was a good idea. But still bad because he obviously had no problem killing someone once he was done with them.

"I can agree to that... but don't ever get that close to me or Caff. I'll assume you're attacking, and I don't want to find out you've had enough of me like that fucker did." Not that tearing Stanley's throat out would be enough to bring him down... but then Nate might know that already with his bullshit intuition.

"Fair. I'd promise a warning if it came to that... but you'd never believe me."

"I'm not an idiot."

Nate shook his head, still smiling. "Stick around, Stanley. You'll see the truth, eventually."

Stanley returned near the trailers after a quick flight back and the requisitioning of a knife from one of Nate's people, along with claiming more food. Part of his lazier hunting regimen involved testing the spear on himself. First to see if it burned him like the undead; it didn't. Second, to push for more free vitality.

Each point gained would save him tens of cores. More even as it got closer to the hundred mark. Whether he could use the same method to push it past ninety-nine... well, he'd probably find out with willpower first.

He cleared the lairs nearest to the trailers while more and more people arrived and got crammed inside. His vitality never went up on its own, and he wasn't ready to go hard on self-mutilation. It had taken a lot of punishment to gain points during the fight...

Caffeine stirred once where he lay asleep in Stanley's lap, but only enough to gobble down a mouthful of the meat he was keeping in front of the dog's face. It was better than nothing... a good sign that he was recovering...

Jerry showed up with some others, running into the cleared lairs and setting up cooking stations inside. Apparently, preparing the meat helped it last once outside. Had Nate sent them? Or did Jerry tell them about how he hunted? Stanley didn't care, it was just more food for him and Caffeine.

Debuff Removed: [Cerebral Fatigue]

It felt good when the message came. Felt like dropping a weight from his back.

Stanley crushed and twisted off the heads of the monsters in the current lair. That felt even better.

There was something about fighting sans weapons... something visceral... like using his bare hands. Though in his case, it was his... bare mind? Whatever. It felt powerful. Stanley wanted to feel powerful. Needed to.

Then he tested his newest skill on the way back to the trailers.

He went up first, pushing for maximum range. His ears popped, but not until the ground stopped falling away. Same thing happened when he went down, though the ground rushing towards him was more disturbing.

Next he tried horizontal movement, his inner ear protesting the whole time. Stanley ignored the nausea through force of will. This was power that he needed to survive, and he wouldn't let a little discomfort stop him.

The disappointing part was that the skill felt a lot like what he'd seen from the E-grade skill shard the zombie dropped. Obviously, that core was more valuable for attributes, though maybe he should have saved it until he was closer to the limit of F-grade... Absorbing it when he did might have been a huge mistake. Fuck.

Stanley tried not to think about how big a fuckup that might have been while he looked for a non-lair structure to crash into with the new skill. That was the main difference between skills that he still needed to test. Outside forces...

He didn't even notice the building when he blasted through it. Like nothing was there. Then he flew next to a lair wall. This might hurt... but hey, free vitality?

It was unlikely a danger to his life, but his bones might still suffer. So he aimed only slightly into the wall, just enough for his shoulder to make contact while leaving his head out of it. Just in case. He also left Caffeine out completely, setting him just above the floor, though he doubted anything would make him drop the pug.

The wall shattered away from him, and Stanley smiled. Sure, it felt like he'd just slammed his brain into a wall, but it worked. The skill was good. Especially if a lair wall counted as a magical effect, which he assumed it had to. The only thing stronger than the lairs... was an E-grade.

If he'd had this skill before... it might have been enough to escape. Maybe even enough to stay ahead of the monster while he wore it down...

"It's good, Caff!" Stanley couldn't help hugging the sleeping pug when he was back in his lap. "I won't be so helpless next time... I promise."

Caffeine shifted in his sleep, nose twitching, and Stanley quickly shoved more food in his face. The food vanished into his bottomless stomach, and earned Stanley a sleepy look and a small tail wag from the pug before Caffeine knocked back out. Rest, Caff. I'll get stronger.

Then he blasted himself back to the trailer in a series of lightning fast bursts that only improved his mood further.

His good mood waned immediately when he found the whiny people complaining about getting jammed into a trailer. Stanley resisted the urge to shove everyone inside and lock the doors, if only to shut them up. Besides, this was something for Nate to deal with. He was the one who wanted to save all these weaklings.

They still took too long. "Time's up," Stanley said, and picked up both trailers. He grunted at the effort needed. It was almost identical to trying to lift the E-grade...

A giant pit bull bounded out of one trailer, a squealing girl in his mouth as he stared up at Stanley. His departure helped significantly with the weight... which meant he was strong. So why was he even in there?

Nate went to the dog and had a quiet one-way conversation with it... or maybe he was talking to the girl. Either way, it ended with someone wrapping a rope around the dog and the girl riding on his back. She looked thrilled with the plan... Lucky kid.

There were a few more annoying delays as Stanley slowly flew away with the trailers, trying to hurry them all up. It mostly worked, and Nate led the foot charge with all the people not getting a free ride.

Stanley guessed they were going northwest, but he didn't fly high enough to see the ocean and his sense of direction was crap without a landmark. Not only were the couple hundred people heavy, but he was prepared to drop them if necessary.

No need to kill them by flying too high... because there were a lot of kids in there. All of them ungraded because they couldn't absorb cores... talk about fucked up bullshit. How were they supposed to survive? Well, that one girl had the dog watching out... and he supposed Nate was watching over the rest.

It was impressive enough that Stanley had to give Nate some props for keeping them alive for so long. It was also... somewhat selfless. Somewhat because their parents might be useful enough for Nate to go to the trouble; Stanley didn't ask, but it made him think unpleasant thoughts about Samantha.

He was trying very hard not to think about her. She'd had to know it was suicide to do what she did. She knew how strong he was... which meant she had to know how dangerous the monster was if he was losing... so then why did she do it? Was she really that good of a person?

She barely knew him. He'd almost killed her before. Threatened to kill her even more... Why would she sacrifice herself? Was Arthur right? Was she just some kind of saint? Her plea for him to kill her when he'd doubted Caffeine... had she truly meant that?

The concept of self sacrifice wasn't foreign or anything. Stanley was fully prepared to die saving Lee or Caffeine... though he was pretty sure he didn't have a choice there. But dying for someone he didn't know? If Samantha survived saving him, would he die to save her later?

Stanley was sure he wouldn't make that choice, and it made him feel... bad. But it wasn't wrong to look out for oneself or one's own, was it?

Caffeine would have risked himself to save her.

The thought made him angry... so he focused on dragging the trailers faster, and let the effort drown out all thought as he chased after Nate below.

A few dozen ran along with Nate at the forefront, and they fought and killed whatever zombies or other monsters showed up. In the beginning, it was mostly zombies; the monsters staying in their lairs. But as they traveled further, the ratios shifted in the other direction. Probably something to do with the Miasma getting weaker... which begged the question; which was worse? Monsters everywhere or zombies everywhere?

Unless the lairs were at an abnormal density in the city, then it would be a madhouse out on the fringes too. Stanley just wasn't sure since he hadn't been near the wall after the first night... at least not to hunt.

No skyscrapers out there, so more caves? Or would every house become a tiny lair? Though plenty of the apartment buildings had tunnels below them... so something like that? It wasn't total wilderness, after all. Still plenty of shopping centers and warehouses, just not as close together.

Stanley left the combat to Nate and his runners. At least until they engaged an army of bugs from the front and didn't seem to notice the swarm of furry... things coming in behind.

Unfortunately, he kind of needed them to survive if he was going to get his free food... so Stanley sent his spear and knife to play.

He had to keep things closer than he wanted, thanks to the excessive weight under his care, and a few magical effects occasionally clipped the trailers just above the tree line while he mopped up the beasts below. The worst part was losing out on the cores...

Sure, he could have set everyone down and handled it faster, but he wanted to get done with this bullshit as soon as possible. It was only a drop in the bucket compared to the cores Nate had given him, after all...

Of course, Nate found more fucking people on the way. Especially when he changed course... like he knew they were there. Fucking intuition... it was too powerful, and Stanley finally started wishing he'd chosen the telepathy skill. If he could actually trust Nate... they could leave all these hangers on and really make some headway with escaping this place.

Stanley tried to watch him fight during the trip, and he got enough glimpses to know the man was dangerous. Nate never took a single injury, despite everyone else sustaining at least one, if not more. Every monster he faced died in a single blow, and he moved among his people nonstop, probably killing more than all of them combined.

Very dangerous.

+1 Willpower

It was a nice little bonus for the hour of straining, and it came right on time. When they reached their destination, an old retirement home, five stories tall with a disturbing number of broken windows and a few holes through the walls.

Everyone looked happy and excited, at least the people who hadn't run and fought the whole way there. Stanley overheard enough to know the good mood was because the new lingering miasma didn't reach this far. Not yet.

He wanted to bail before anyone got any bright ideas about asking him for more help, but he wanted food.

Nate held up his end of the deal despite the protests when Stanley took a few backpacks stuffed full from their stash. "He saved us at least a week of travel, and through the miasma, no less."

"I fucking carried it all here, too," Stanley muttered at the ungrateful pricks. But he didn't care enough to get angry and just flew away instead.

Time to hunt. Again.