A bird chirped in the distance. The sound drifted through the kitchen window, the normality of it strange against everything else happening in the world. Lucas sat at the table, scrolling through the system screen hovering in front of him. Text scrolled past—information about his level up, new options, capabilities he hadn’t possessed an hour ago.

  Isabelle leaned against the kitchen counter next to the now-dead stove, arms crossed, gaze fixed somewhere past his shoulder.

  “I don’t like Vincent,” she said.

  Her words caused Lucas to look up. Her expression was firm, almost challenging, as if to ask: You don’t like him either, right?

  “Trust me, I’m more than sure something is wrong with Vincent,” Lucas replied, jabbing at the system screen and pressing No.

  The prompt asked if he wished to begin forming a word pair—something he suspected had to do with the spike word his puppet currently wielded. But that wasn’t the only thing he’d received. He’d also gotten a new puppet type: the aegis puppet. From what he could tell, it was probably similar to the trial puppet he’d faced, though he couldn’t be certain. The design required far more material than he’d hoped, though. He’d deal with all of it later.

  “So what are we going to do about him?” Isabelle asked.

  Lucas leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. What could they do about Vincent? They couldn’t very well run around saying, “This man is suspicious. Don’t trust him.” That would make them the antagonists. Besides, in a time where people needed help, running around telling everyone the person helping them was actually dangerous wouldn’t win them any points.

  “I don’t think there’s anything we can do about him now,” Lucas said slowly. “Not while he’s seemingly helping so many people.”

  Isabelle raised a brow. “Seemingly?”

  “Well, he is helping them, yes. But there’s a motive behind this. There always is.”

  Isabelle rubbed at her eyelashes and sighed. The sound carried weight—exhaustion, maybe. Or resignation.

  It was good that they were talking like this. It probably went a long way toward rebuilding some of the trust that had evaporated yesterday. Maybe he could even broach what had happened, given enough time.

  “So what’s your plan then?” she asked.

  “My plan?” Lucas didn’t exactly have a plan, per se. But he needed allies. People who saw what was happening and could at least prepare for it. The two siblings they’d run into earlier came to mind. “You remember that girl from earlier when we were coming back?”

  “And her standoffish brother?” Isabelle nodded. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Well, I’m thinking we see what they know and where they stand on this situation. If we can get them on side, that’s at least something.”

  “And how do you plan to—”

  The kitchen door swung open. Lucas’s mother stepped through, wearing heavy brown boots and a large winter jacket that seemed excessive for the only slightly cool weather. She surveyed the room; her gaze moving from Lucas to Isabelle with the scrutiny of someone who knew exactly when her son was up to something.

  “What are you two doing?” she asked.

  Lucas gave a noncommittal shrug as she walked in. “Planning another resource run.”

  “Another one?” She looked at the small stack of cans in front of Lucas. He’d been looking over them earlier, checking for damage they might have taken in the fight with the flamebacks. “Ah, I see.” She paused at the counter, one hand gripping the edge. “This time, while I know it’s important, try to get a little less of the medical supplies.”

  Lucas frowned. Medical supplies were bound to be one thing people needed most in the future. Why wouldn’t she want more of them? It wasn’t like they had a stash to fall back on. One backpack’s worth was hardly sufficient. If anything, he’d been thinking of hitting up the Main Street Pharmacy, assuming it hadn’t gotten looted yet.

  He glanced outside. The sun was still high, but definitely setting. Most of the day had surely passed.

  “I’d say you focus on getting canned goods,” his mother continued. “Those are very important. They last for years, and I’m not too sure how long this will last.”

  That was a good point. But it was also kind of missing the forest for the trees. Lucas put her suggestion aside for now. The real question was where she was going exactly. The boots and jacket suggested somewhere outside. Somewhere specific.

  “Are you planning to go see Vincent?” he asked tentatively.

  His mother shrugged, adjusting the collar of her jacket. “He was right. If we just leave the meat in the fridge, it’s going to go off. It’s not like we have any way to cook it. We might as well contribute something. Who knows, these people might help us in the future.” She paused, her tone shifting to something almost rehearsed. “And my survival video says it’s important to build a network.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  Lucas’s chest tightened. Of course. Vincent had planted the idea, and now she was walking straight into whatever he’d set up.

  Was she really that na?ve? And was Vincent really that convincing? Surely not. The man’s attempts had been all but laid bare for Lucas. Isabelle clearly felt it too, though that might simply come from the distrust she seemed to hold for everyone at this moment.

  “You don’t trust him, do you, Mum?” Lucas asked, raising a brow.

  She rummaged around the fridge, opening the freezer and sliding out thin slabs of steak. They were no longer frozen—the fridge had died yesterday—but left in the freezer, they’d stayed more than cool. Water still dribbled from the unit, but the temperature inside remained several degrees below room temperature.

  “It’s not that I trust him, per se.” She straightened, holding two moisture-slicked packets of steak. “He just feels like a good guy, like he wants to help. And I feel that with those types of people, we should at least extend some trust. Don’t you think?”

  For a moment, Lucas couldn’t believe the words he was hearing.

  Yesterday. When he’d handed that man supplies for his son’s injury, she’d all but torn his ear off for sharing resources. True, those had been medical supplies, and the beef would definitely go to waste if left in the fridge. But how could any of this sit right with her? The notion that she might have something else motivating her gnawed at him like—

  A scream tore through the air outside.

  Lucas bolted from the chair. Apollo shot up from where he’d been resting near the counter, scrambling after him. They raced toward the front room, Isabelle a few steps behind, his mother following.

  Lucas burst through the doorway.

  Through the broken window, he watched as a boar charged down the street. Not one of the smaller ones—this thing was massive, tusks gleaming, hooves hammering against asphalt as it closed in on a man stumbling backwards. The man’s mouth was open, screaming, but Lucas couldn’t hear it over the sound of his own pulse thundering in his ears.

  Movement came from the left.

  Vincent rushed from the house a few doors down, still wearing his suit pants, tie, and white shirt. He raced forward at a speed that seemed like it belonged more to an athlete than a businessman. Then he launched himself over a parked car, soaring in an arc.

  “Summon Armament!”

  The words rang out across the street, loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear.

  A large sword materialised in his hand mid-flight. Light coalesced into steel, the blade forming from nothing as Vincent descended. He landed on the road directly in front of the boar, knees bending to absorb the impact.

  The boar didn’t slow.

  Vincent swung his sword toward it. “Force!”

  The blade didn’t connect. But something invisible in the air did. A shockwave—much like the word he’d yelled—slammed into the boar’s side. The creature stumbled, knocked off balance, its massive bulk tilting as its hooves skidded across asphalt.

  Vincent rushed forward. He raised the blade over the fallen beast, bringing it down in an arcing chop. “Force!”

  As he swung, the blade seemingly accelerated mid-strike. It sliced straight through the boar’s head with vicious precision, splitting skull and brain in one clean motion. Blood sprayed. The boar collapsed, its death instantaneous.

  Vincent stood in the street, blood pooling beneath him. He even took a step back, careful to avoid getting his black shoes wet.

  Lucas’s jaw clenched.

  The man was impressive. No matter how much Lucas didn’t want to admit it. But that was the thing—he was being impressive in such a loud way. You didn’t need to say the words so loudly when activating abilities. A simple mutter would have sufficed. Yet Vincent made sure practically the entire neighbourhood could hear and see what he was doing.

  There was no need to ask why. He wanted them to see. Wanted them to know he had not only the ability to organise them, but the strength to protect them.

  “I really, really don’t like that guy,” Isabelle said from beside him.

  Lucas’s mother turned to her, face creased in confusion. “Why? He literally just saved that man. Did you see? Even now, he’s making sure he’s okay before looking after himself.”

  Lucas glanced at his mother over his shoulder. She couldn’t be so blind, could she? It was clearly theatrics. Sure, the man had been in danger, but Vincent had gone over the top in his attempts to save him. And frankly, if his goal was shock and awe, it was working—at least on his mother.

  Apollo growled. Low and warning, seemingly disagreeing with the notion that Vincent was a good man.

  That provided some solace.

  Lucas’s mother looked at the dog and shook her head. “Anyway, it’s best that I get these to him and return. The other two are upstairs. I’ll be gone for a moment. You two can leave as soon as I’m back.”

  Lucas nodded. There was no point in trying to convince her now. She’d set her trust with Vincent, and it was easier to fool someone than convince them they’d been fooled.

  His mother moved toward the door, steak packets still in hand. Lucas watched her go, frustration coiling in his chest.

  “What the hell is he doing there?” Isabelle’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  Lucas looked over. His face dropped.

  Ian emerged from a house just down the street—not his own house, but the one a few doors closer. The same house that the woman had entered with her child earlier. He walked with purpose, heading straight toward Vincent, who was now crouched beside the man he’d saved, playing the concerned hero.

  Lucas’s throat tightened. Vincent’s organising was going better than even he’d accounted for. Ian wasn’t someone who worked with people in normal situations. Even with the world gone to hell, someone so polarising should have kept to himself. But Vincent had won even him over.

  “Do you think he and Vincent are going to come after my dad’s crystal?” Isabelle asked quietly.

  “Come after?” Lucas raised an eyebrow. He’d been under the impression she’d left the jewel Ian was looking for back at her place. “You brought it with you?”

  “Of course. I’m not leaving it there.” Her voice carried an edge. “It was important to my dad. If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it from my dead body.”

  Lucas wished she didn’t sound so sure it would come to a fight. But the locket and crystal were all she had left of her father. He understood that, even if the determination in her voice set off alarm bells.

  That was a good question she’d brought up, though. Would Vincent side with Ian? And if so, how bad would the conflict be? By the look of Vincent’s ability, he was no pushover. The man had just cleaved through a boar’s skull in one strike.

  Would they even be able to take someone like that down?

  His stomach twisted. It was one thing to fight a beast and another thing entirely to fight a human. And Lucas wasn’t sure he could kill someone.