Chapter 53 (1/2)

Dozer put his hands on his hips and laughed enthusiastically. “Kukuku, what other outcome but this was possible? Bask in my radiance! I am the strongest!”

Donny and Decklan gazed hatefully at him, but kept their mouths shut. To be sure, both Decklan’s speed and Donny’s endurance and ability to interrupt tempo and survive damage were intimidating.

However, this was not a battlefield. There was nowhere for you to hide, no cover to hide behind. There was no press of bodies that ensured that Donny’s devastating Shield Bashes could be brought to bare. This was a duel.

In an open space, Dozer’s larger weapon was at an advantage, and after a long struggle, he had prevailed.

“The strongest? I would probably rate you as a distant 5th, overall. But your ambition sure is… optimistic.”

Dozer frowned, his moment passed, but didn’t say anything as he turned to face the speaker. Lyra walked forward, her typical smirk in place on her face, her eyes glittering.

Although she was probably the most attractive woman in Donnyton, very few people had the nerve to talk to her. One of the reasons was the presence of the Ghosthound, but the other was the viciousness with which she could rip through enemies with her magic.

The men had whispered uneasily about how when the blood of harpies rained from the skies, in that last monster horde, there was only one culprit: Lyra.

The Ghosthound could reduce a horde into nothing with a blast of fire, and Clarissa was extremely accurate with her icicles, but those didn’t intimidate in the same visceral way as having drops of blood fall on you while fighting. A red rain that marked the activity of her cruelly silent birds.

“Who’s above me?” Dozer rumbled, intimidated, but unwilling to let go of the moment.

Her smile widened, as if this was exactly what she wanted. “Well, obviously myself, Clarissa, Annie, and Sam. Can you think of anyone else?”

The Ghosthound hung between them, a name that Dozer would easily admit was more powerful than he. But at the moment, looking at her small smirk, Dozer felt a hot spark of dissatisfaction.

But then he frowned. “Annie? What are you talking about. She doesn’t even have-”

But Lyra just waved at him placatingly. “Yes, yes, all a big joke. Donny boy, actually I’m here for you. There is a guest.”

She gestured theatrically to a thin man with long black hair tied up in a bun, standing behind her. The man was looking around nervously, but stepped forward without hesitation when he was indicated.

“Hello, I’m Glendel. It’s nice to meet you.”

****

Glendel returned to their basecamp quickly, hurrying forward through the lengthening shadows. It had been 10 days since the world had changed. Glendel had thought that as a general rule, his group was probably more adaptable than most, and had done well for themselves.

While others had just wanted to sit inside and wait out whatever had happened in the world, Regina had taken a more sustainability focused outlook on the whole situation. She had pushed for gathering individuals, gathering medicine and food, defending themselves actively, clearing out monsters in the hospital where they all used to work.

She had led them, inspiring them to greatness, discovering potion making and magic and everything they knew about this world.

The casual way that the people had talked about these things in Donnyton had shattered his worldview. They were strong, far, far stronger than Glendel had believed possible. During the tournament, Glendel had watched as many fights as he could. And the casual strength even the one-shoulder-pad Classer could display was breathtaking.

Approaching the camp, Glendel stopped and whistled, as agreed, and heard the counter whistle. He hurried forward, happy to finally be back.

They had set up shop at a gas station, their convoy of tractor trailers and ambulances pulling over, surprised at how few monsters they encountered in the area. In retrospect, the reason was obvious; the town was already dominating the nearby landscape. When even the NCCs had enough strength to handle themselves around a monster, the wandering creatures would thin out rather quickly.

Remembering the pens where there were some enterprising individuals trying to breed monsters for meat, Glendel shivered.

As he passed some people, he nodded to them, and received weary nods in return, their eyes hollow, following his bulging backpack. Unfortunately, in this group of 70, the food that he had been given wouldn’t do much to sate their hunger. But it would bring hope.