Low growls escaped their helms as they lowered their heads. Corrupted by the mory core’s adverse effects, these souls had lost basic functions—like speech. But in exchange, they had gained one thing: the ability to fight.
’Verdict.’
Design Na: [Vulture]
Compactability: 35%
Rank: D
Trait: [Plague of Rot — Spreads rot and death wherever it goes. Cuts from a Vulture rot quickly and infect fast!]
Final Verdict: [A great craft—not a masterpiece, but an innovative creation. Congratulations! You’ve weaved a design with a potent trait. Make more. An army of Vultures should be your desire.]
rek leaned against the wall, drained of strength. These undead were of dium build, each weighing around 115 kilograms. As he gazed at them, his vision blurred until he eventually drifted off to sleep.
Hours later, a loud, rapid knock on the storage room door jolted him awake.
Groaning, rek rose. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, a faint clink of tal drew his attention left. Standing in the shadow beneath the narrow window were two Vulture undead. Their chains rattled softly with each slight movent.
Both were level 4. He quickly realized: his newly weaved creations would always be five levels below his own. Leveling up beca a top priority.
"You stood all night and still don’t feel tired. Tsk, I envy you," rek muttered, opening the door to find Tevin waiting outside.
"It’s 10 in the morning. We should get going."
"To where?" rek asked, walking past him. He glanced at Yuki, standing guard at the entrance like a sentinel, hands resting on her sword’s poml.
Tevin paused. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. "What were you even doing in there all this—!"
His eyes widened as the Vultures stepped into view, their movents heavy and deliberate.
"You were making more? How many can you make? Fifty? A hundred?!"
"You ask too many questions," rek replied coolly, grabbing a bottle of water and biting into a biscuit.
Tevin scowled. "You don’t look older than . Why act like it?"
"How old are you?" rek asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Twenty. I’m in my third year—"
"I’m twenty-two. Respect your elders," rek said with a dry chuckle, glancing at the golden rays trying to pierce through their makeshift barricade.
"What?! You’re done with school?!"
rek ignored him, then after a mont’s thought, spoke. "I need to find my brother. He’s with the Howling Moon Gang. They control the mall. Last I checked, they had firearms and nearly a thousand people in their safe hold."
Tevin finished a bottle of water in one go. "The mall’s got everything—food, clothes, a backup generator, space. Of course people would gather there." He tilted his head. "But you can’t take them on. They’ve got guns—and definitely people with Jobs."
"I won’t let my younger brother beco their pawn. He’s just fifteen." rek’s tone had softened; the distance in his voice was gone.
"I’m with you," Tevin said, firmly.
"Why?" rek looked him in the eyes.
Tevin looked away. "I don’t have parents anymore. And I’m not desperate enough to run to a thug-run safe hold. You’re my best shot."
"Good." rek turned toward the exit. "Let’s go, then. First, we deal with the mutant dog. You’re in charge of scavenging. I’ll find more Wraiths."
"Eh?"
"Just do your duty." rek cocked his bottle of water, drew his revolver, and checked the cylinder. It still hadn’t regenerated any bullets, yet his eyes burned with resolve.
"Let’s go."
....
After a short walk, rek and Tevin arrived at the crossroads—only to find the mutant Rottweiler already lying dead, a slender figure standing over its body.
She had platinum hair cut into a long bob that frad her neck and shoulders. A black jacket covered her black top, paired with fitted black pants and boots. She also slung a backpack.
Part of her face was hidden beneath a cap, but rek instantly caught a glimpse of her beauty.
He watched in silence as she swallowed the dog’s essence core and then slowly turned toward them.
For a mont, rek froze. He’d seen beautiful won before, but this was sothing else—this was the kind of beauty that made you uncomfortable just by proximity.
Felicity’s gaze lingered on the strange armored beings beside the two young n, her eyes narrowing at the one in a stained white sweatshirt. Sothing about him made her body instinctively tense—a quiet readiness. He gave off a presence that scread danger.
"Class Prez... is that you?" Tevin blinked in disbelief, rubbing his eyes. He hurried forward.
"Tevin?" Felicity’s voice softened as she recognized him. Her posture eased slightly.
Tevin couldn’t believe it. Felicity—the class president, the school belle—had been distant and aloof, often seen with headphones on from morning to night, rarely speaking to anyone. Rumors had always swirled about her coldness, about her powerful background, but Tevin knew better. He knew it had everything to do with her father.
"Class Prez... where are you coming from? Did anyone escape the school with you?"
Felicity nodded. "The others are with the professor. But..." Her eyes didn’t leave rek. "Who’s that?"
"He’s a neighbor. We lived in the sa building before all this. Don’t worry about how strange he feels."
She turned to Tevin, then back to rek. "Does it have sothing to do with his Job?"
Tevin nodded. "I think so."
"Is he with you?"
"Yes," Tevin said without hesitation.
"Then..." Her gaze narrowed. "Why is he leaving?"
Tevin turned and found rek walking away. "Hey! Where are you going?!"
rek waved him farewell as he continued walking away.
"That way is in the direction of White Shop camp. The professor wants to take those of us that survived there but not all of us have Jobs. So far, only a few of us have it and we might not be able to protect everyone. I am trying to increase my level but I can sense essence within you. Will you join us? It would make things easier."
Tevin turned to rek. "We’re going in the sa direction! Let’s go together!"
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