Chapter 192: 192. Alone...
Owen didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the sand.
Minutes. Hours. Ti had lost aning.
The notification still glowed in his vision.
[PRISONER ELIMINATED: GORVAX]
He dismissed it. It reappeared.
He dismissed it again.
His hands shook. Not from fear. From sothing else. Sothing he hadn’t felt since Earth. Since the dragons were deleted.
Grief.
Gorvax had saved him. Sacrificed himself so Owen could escape. Used ancient Nullborn tradition to force a one-on-one fight.
And died for it.
’Seri will be released. She’ll get dical care. She’ll die peacefully.’
That was what Gorvax wanted. What he’d fought for.
But it didn’t make it hurt less.
Owen’s CE had recovered slightly. 2,400. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
He stood. His body ached. Broken ribs healed but still tender. Dislocated shoulder functional but weak.
He needed to move. Raxka would co looking. The hunt wasn’t over.
Four days remaining.
---
Owen walked through the desert night.
No destination. Just movent. Away from the oasis. Away from where Gorvax had died.
The cold bit through his CE reinforcent. 2 points per minute. His reserves draining slowly.
He found a rocky outcrop. Squeezed into a crevice barely large enough for his body. Hidden. Defensible.
He sat. Closed his eyes. Tried to rest.
Sleep didn’t co.
Instead, mories.
Gorvax explaining cosmic gardening. His voice matter-of-fact about destroying billions.
Gorvax’s rage when Seri was taken. The way his CE nearly leveled Kaelos.
Gorvax standing beside him at trial. Partners.
Gorvax hunting in Zone 3. Efficient. Brutal. But always watching Owen’s back.
"You remind
of myself. Five hundred years ago. When I still believed things could be better."
His final words: "Seri needs
to survive. I can’t do that if you’re here distracting ."
Owen’s eyes burned.
He didn’t cry. Couldn’t afford to. Dehydration was already a risk in the desert.
But the grief sat in his chest like a stone.
---
Morning ca.
Two suns rising. Orange and white. Heat building rapidly.
Owen erged from the crevice. Scanned the horizon.
Empty. No movent. No CE signatures.
But she was out there. Hunting.
He checked his status.
[SURVIVAL TI: 24 DAYS, 18 HOURS]
[CREDIT BALANCE: 2,456,000]
[CURRENT RANK: #23 (FULL LEADERBOARD)]
[PRISONERS REMAINING: 163 (SEASON 47)
~298 (LIFERS)]
[MONTH 1 HUNT: 4 DAYS REMAINING]
Four days. He had to survive four more days.
Against a Tier 2, two-star Nullborn who had his exact location tagged via tracker.
’Impossible odds. Again.’
Owen started moving. South. Away from Zone 12. Toward Zone 7. The jungle.
Dense vegetation. Cover. Easier to hide.
He walked for six hours. Rationed water. Avoided predators.
His CE sense constantly active. Scanning. Searching for Raxka’s signature.
Nothing yet.
But she would co.
---
By midday, Owen reached the border between desert and jungle.
The transition was abrupt. Sand gave way to soil. Heat gave way to humidity. Sparse emptiness beca dense foliage.
He entered the jungle. Imdiately felt safer. Trees provided cover from the drones. Undergrowth concealed movent.
He found a stream. Drank. Refilled his containers.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not Raxka. Different rhythm. Lighter. Multiple sources.
Owen’s CE sense flared.
Three signatures. Tier 5, four-stars each. Moving together. Coordinated.
Prisoners. Season 47 based on their movent patterns—cautious, uncertain, grouped for safety.
They appeared through the trees.
Two males, one female. All humanoid. Different species but similar builds.
They stopped when they saw Owen.
The female spoke first. "You’re the False Fist."
Owen didn’t respond.
One of the males stepped forward. His skin was pale blue with bioluminescent veins. "We saw the broadcast. You and the Sower. The alliance."
"And?" Owen’s voice was flat.
"Is it true? Is Gorvax dead?"
Owen’s jaw tightened. "Yes."
The three prisoners exchanged glances.
The female—red-skinned with horn nubs—spoke again. "The Nullborn hunter. She killed him."
"Yes."
"And now she’s hunting you."
"Yes."
The second male, grey-skinned with extra joints in his arms, smiled. "Then you’re a liability. Dead man walking."
Owen’s gauntlets humd. "If you’re planning to kill
for credits, get it over with."
The female raised her hands. "No. We’re not suicidal. You’re rank twenty-three. Worth millions. But you’re also being hunted by a Tier 2."
"So?"
"So we want to help."
Owen blinked. "Why?"
"Because if you survive the hunt, you’ll owe us," the blue-skinned male said. "Favors. Information. Protection. Whatever we need later."
"And if I die?"
"Then we wasted a few days. But if you live?" The female’s expression was calculating. "An alliance with soone climbing ranks that fast is worth the risk."
Owen studied them. Their CE signatures were stable. Not lying. But not entirely trustworthy either.
’They’re betting on . Investing in potential.’
He had options. Refuse and continue alone. Accept and risk betrayal. Kill them and take their credits.
He was tired of being alone.
"What are your nas?"
The female smiled. "I’m Tessa. This is Jorik." She gestured to the blue-skinned male. "And that’s Vren." The grey-skinned one.
"And you think you can help
hide from a Nullborn hunter?"
"We’ve survived three weeks," Jorik said. "We know the jungle zones. Hiding spots. Predator patterns. Safe routes."
"Raxka has a tracker on . She’ll find
no matter where I hide."
"Maybe," Tessa said. "But we can make it harder. Slower. Buy you ti."
Owen considered. Four days. If they could help him survive four days, the hunt would end.
"What do you want in return?"
"When the hunt ends, you help us hunt high-value targets. Share credits. Get us into the top fifty," Vren said.
"That’s it?"
"That’s it. For now."
Owen’s instincts scread caution. But his logic agreed with their reasoning.
Alone, his odds were nearly zero. With help, maybe five percent.
Five percent was better than zero.
"Alright. Four days. We survive together. After that, we reassess."
Tessa extended her hand. "Deal."
Owen shook it.
Jorik grinned. "Good. Follow us. We’ve got a shelter. Underground. The drones can’t see through rock."
They led Owen deeper into the jungle.
For the first ti since Gorvax died, Owen felt a sliver of hope.
Maybe he could survive this.
Maybe.
---
The shelter was impressive.
A natural cave system beneath massive tree roots. Multiple chambers. Fresh water flowing through. Ventilation shafts providing air.
"We’ve been here since day three," Tessa explained. "Built it up slowly. Most predators avoid this area. Too close to a Tier 5, five-star apex predator’s territory."
"Which one?"
"Shadow Panther. Nocturnal. Territorial. Doesn’t hunt during the day. We stay inside at night, it leaves us alone."
Smart. They’d found a niche in the ecosystem.
Owen sat in the main chamber. His body finally relaxing.
Jorik brought water. Vren prepared food—dried at from previous kills.
"Eat," Vren said. "You look half-dead."
Owen ate. The food was bland but filling.
As he ate, Tessa studied him. "Can I ask you sothing?"
"Sure."
"The Sower. Gorvax. You actually cared about him."
It wasn’t a question. But Owen answered anyway. "Yes."
"Why? He destroyed worlds. Killed billions."
"Because he was trying to save soone he loved. And because when it mattered, he chose to save
instead of himself." Owen’s voice was quiet. "That counts for sothing."
Tessa nodded slowly. "The galaxy thinks you’re ruthless. Efficient. Cold. But you’re not, are you?"
"I do what needs to be done. That doesn’t an I enjoy it."
"Good. Cold killers don’t survive Prison World long-term. They make too many enemies. But people who fight for sothing? They find allies. They build networks." She smiled slightly. "You’ll survive, False Fist. I think you might even win."
"Win?"
"Earn the pardon. Get out. Go ho." Tessa leaned back. "And when you do, rember who helped you when you needed it most."
Owen t her eyes. "I will."
---
They rested through the afternoon.
As evening approached, Jorik took watch at the cave entrance. Vren maintained equipnt. Tessa ditated, cycling her CE.
Owen sat alone. Thinking.
Gorvax was gone. Seri would be released soon. The Sower’s five-hundred-year journey was over.
And Owen was still here. Still fighting.
’I’ll survive this hunt. I’ll climb the ranks. I’ll kill the next hunter. And the next. I’ll earn that pardon.’
He checked his notifications.
[PRISONER ELIMINATED: #142 - CAUSE: NULLBORN HUNTER]
[PRISONER ELIMINATED: #089 - CAUSE: NULLBORN HUNTER]
[PRISONERS REMAINING: 161 (SEASON 47)
~298 (LIFERS)]
Raxka was hunting. Two more dead.
But not Owen.
Not yet.
He closed his eyes. Rested. Recovered.
Tomorrow, the hunt continued.
But tonight, he had shelter. Allies. A plan.
And that was enough.
---
Miles away, Raxka stood over two dissolving bodies.
She sniffed the air. Smiled.
"The whelp is hiding well. But I can feel the tracker. Faint. Distant. But there."
She stretched. "Three more days. Then I return ho."
She looked toward the jungle. "Run, little prey. It makes the hunt more fun."
She began moving. Slow. Patient. thodical.
The hunt continued.
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