Cassel — POV
"From today onward, we’ll form a small team and leave the base to search for supplies and take on missions to pay the rent. The food we currently have won’t last more than two weeks."
My voice echoed softly through the living room,
"But Boss... what about those n from earlier?" Frederick asked anxiously.
His voice wavered slightly—barely noticeable to anyone else. Frederick stood near the doorway, his hands lightly clenched, as if he feared those n might burst back in at any mont. His earth-worn skin and broad shoulders never quite matched the fragile concern in his eyes. Despite his strength, he worried too easily... especially when it involved threats he couldn’t punch his way through.
"Don’t worry about them," I replied, though the cold edge in my tone wasn’t for comfort—it was for control. "What you should worry about is how you behave outside. Don’t go around showing off your powers or unleashing everything you’ve got."
The warning settled heavily among them. Outside these walls, strength was both a shield and a curse. Too much of it, and you beco prey—not for the monsters, but for people far more dangerous.
"I’ve noticed that most people’s powers aren’t that impressive," Henry said. He paused, glancing up from where he sat. The shadows carved sharper angles across his face, making his usually calm expression seem almost severe. Then he added in a grave tone, "In fact, our abilities are far superior to most of the people here."
His words weren’t arrogance—they were truth, cold and uncomfortable. A truth that could ruin us if spoken in the wrong place.
"Exactly," I said. "Our powers are so exceptional that if anyone finds out, they’ll start getting suspicious. And once that happens, we’ll be dragged into all kinds of trouble."
Silence rippled through the room. Several pairs of eyes lowered. Others flicked sharply toward the walls, as if expecting soone to be listening. The lights overhead flickered once, then steadied, reflecting off the weapons laid on the nearby table.
"Now then," I continued, trying to steer their focus, "let’s review our team mbers and their powers."
The sound of shifting fabric and faint breathing filled the room as they all straightened. Henry, ever dutiful, began reciting as if he had morized the information with perfect precision.
"My ability is air," he began, his voice steady. "Frederick controls Earth. Liz has fire—though she still hasn’t learned how to control it properly."
Liz, who had been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, turned her head away with a quiet huff. A faint spark flickered at her fingertips before she quickly clenched her hand into a fist to snuff it out. She hated when anyone ntioned her lack of control; fire didn’t respond to sha, and neither did she.
"That bear Robin says he awakened his powers a few days ago, and apparently he has so kind of acid ability—"
Robin shot up from his seat, offended, his heavy fra shaking slightly with indignation. "Why are you all looking at like that?! My power is amazing, okay? I can lt a zombie into a puddle of water in minutes!"
His booming voice echoed off the concrete walls. Even the children playing quietly in the corner glanced over in alarm before turning back to their toys.
"We still need to eat later. Spare us your descriptions, please," Liz muttered, covering her mouth in disgust.
Henry continued without missing a beat, though the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips showed he enjoyed the bickering more than he let on.
"Jo and Sebastian both have water abilities."
The two n nodded from where they sat, calm and composed, their expressions reflecting the fluid steadiness of their elent—unbothered, adaptable, but capable of drowning anything if pushed.
"I rember the nurse who works with the family doctor awakened her powers too," Henry added, "but they seed... useless. She can only grow roses."
"Oh, you an Katy?" Lis said. A small, unexpected warmth flickered through her face. "I saw her planting so roses in the garden earlier. I think they’re beautiful—lively and romantic even. Why say it’s useless?"
For a mont, the heavy mood shifted—just barely. A few shoulders relaxed.
The image of bright roses growing in soil stained by an apocalypse was oddly comforting, like a rebellion against despair.
Henry smiled faintly, then continued, "Finally, there are the children you brought back. Aside from Alex’s fire ability, the little girl has healing powers. She can’t cure diseases or nd severed limbs, but she did heal a broken hand. Her twin brother awakened his power as well."
The children’s laughter rang softly from the corner of the room—innocent, unaware of how valuable or dangerous their abilities might be in the wrong hands.
Their small bodies huddled together, surrounded by makeshift toys crafted from scraps of wood and fabric. Rosalia sat among them, her bright eyes full of wonder, her soft smile a rare treasure in this bleak world.
"Wow, Boss, you really do have a good eye for people, as always," Robin clapped while laughing.
"And it’s good that there are kids the sa age as my daughter. She’s been withdrawn and scared ever since the apocalypse started, and I never had the ti or the ans to deal with it properly. Now she plays with those kids—and even smiles."
His voice softened at the end. Even Robin—the loudest, largest, and most chaotic of them—could be tender when it ca to his daughter.
The apocalypse had robbed everyone of sothing... but monts like these gave back slivers of hope.
"Anyway, unlike the Boss’s father and his brother Cecil and their three n, it looks like all of us have superpowers. Isn’t that hilarious?" Frederick laughed softly, as if he had just discovered the joke of the year.
But the laughter didn’t spread.
Instead, the others looked at —so with concern, others with fear. Their gazes pressed on like invisible weights, heavy with mories, regrets, and unspoken questions.
They had every right to be afraid... afraid that I might return to my old ways and worship that father–son duo as if they were gods, handing them everything.
"Maybe you are wrong about Cecil," I said quietly—almost to myself—but everyone heard clearly.
The room stilled. Even the children paused in their play, as if sensing the tension swirling through the air.
Henry was the first to speak. "Boss... are you saying—?"
"It doesn’t matter," I cut in. My voice was colder than I expected. "Soon enough, they’ll leave us and move on."
My gaze drifted toward the window.
The world outside was a palette of gray skies and ruined landscapes—a wasteland perfect for people like Cecil and my father.
They didn’t cling to relationships; they clung to benefits.
Once they realized they couldn’t use anymore, they’d try to take whatever was most valuable and move on to a better ship.
I didn’t intend to stop them.
I preferred it that way—watching them celebrate their luxurious new life, falsely believing they had escaped their fate... only to find themselves suddenly tumbling to the bottom of the food chain, right where they truly belonged.
"Anyway," I said, turning back to my people, "we follow the plan. Starting now, we act like people with average superpowers. We go on missions, eat, sleep, and avoid attracting attention. And most importantly—trust no one outside this room. Understood?"
The n exchanged looks with one another—silent, sharp, and aningful.
It was a dangerous habit they had, sharing entire conversations through their eyes.
Smart n survived, but they also created trouble by seeing too much.
Annoying—always too smart for their own good.
Inside this room—aside from Rosalia, who was happily playing with the five children, including Alex and Robin’s daughter—there were still others. So of our people were still outside, approximately four, including the doctor and his nurse.
What I ant was clear: none of them were to treat outsiders as comrades-in-arms or family. They needed to be as cautious around them as they would be around their closest, deadliest enemies.
After a mont of realization and silence, everyone finally answered with a firm (yes) their expressions serious and sharp, before heading off to prepare lunch.
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