The sickening thud of Roger's fall reverberated through my chest. For a moment, time stood still, then it hurtled forward with ruthless velocity.
I began to dash toward Roger, but Jack caught me by the wrist.
“We’re not his allies,” he hissed. “Don’t make them think we are.”
I felt a strange knot tighten in my stomach, a mix of guilt and frustration. I knew he was right. I knew if I ran up to Roger’s aid, the next shot would likely go to me.
Shadows darted about in the mist. They must’ve gotten their sights on us. Were these the people of the other factions? Surely they weren’t agents of the Bounty Hall, were they?
"It's OK," Jack whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand remained on my wrist, squeezing gently.
I drew a shaky breath, forcing myself to focus. My gaze slid to Saber. Her blade was drawn. And she had positioned herself to guard our flank. If we really needed to, perhaps we could fight our way out of this with her on our side. But I doubted it.
Jack, still scanning the vicinity, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Please Listen! We’re not with the Bounty Hall! We're neutral party!" His words reverberated off the silent asphalt and into the mist. "We’re not with that guy!"
I had my railgun slung across my back. Slowly, cautiously, I pressed a button near its grip to activate its metal-scanner ability.
Flashes of cobalt-blue light shone through the mist, as though I was seeing stars. But these lights had shapes. Shapes of sword or armor, some hidden behind nearby shacks, some in empty space. Some of the flashes fell outside the boundary of my peripheral vision, yet I saw them distinctly too – all 360 degrees around myself. And soon after the flashes appeared, they faded away.
I found eight distinct clusters of equipment. Eight combatants. Most were behind cover, but some of the flashes occupied what otherwise looked like empty space. Were those invisible foes? Now I doubted we had a chance of winning this at all, with Saber or without.
"Drop your weapons," an unseen voice commanded from the mist.
"What are you planning to do?" Jack asked, his voice steady, masking the undercurrent of tension. "We come as refugees. We came to the supermarket in search of shelter.”
No answer came. But I heard distant shuffling of feet that drew ever closer.
“Are you one of the factions here?” Jack asked. “We’re just lost people. Looking for a group to join.”
“Drop your weapons,” the same voice echoed dispassionately. “We can work something out.”
"Let’s surrender," I whispered. Jack gave a tacit nod at Saber. She clenched her jaws. Then, she slowly lowered her sword to the ground. I did likewise with my gun.
“Raise your hands above your heads," the same voice spoke.
We waited with our hands raised, staring into the mist, hoping we wouldn't meet the same fate as Roger. I saw his finger twitch. He was alive and conscious I’d assume, considering he had most of his HP still left. Perhaps he was staying down to avoid further aggression.
From the mist, figures emerged, their outlines hazy and blurred. As they neared, the details sharpened. A few men appeared out of thin air. They were armed with all sorts of weapons. Some wore armor; others were dressed in thick, layered clothes.
They confiscated our weapons, and they bound our wrists with handcuffs.
“We’re not gonna fight,” I told them as they snapped the metal rings shut around my wrists.
“You came with bounty hunter scum,” said the man handling me. He looked about middle-aged, with a disheveled, graying beard. He carried a crossbow at his waist and wore a leather jacket. “Can’t trust you too much, yeah?”
“Oh, that guy.” I looked to Roger. “He’s a defector from the Bounty Hall. You really didn’t have to put him down.”
It wasn't really true, but I hoped the claim would keep him safe, if these were an opposing faction. If rumors got out that Roger was actually a defector from the Bounty Hall, he'd find it harder to return. Perhaps he'd have no choice but to genuinely defect to our side, which might be a good thing in the long run. It was a manipulative tactic, one I hated to have used, but I convinced myself it was for the best.
Once they cuffed us all, even the bleeding Roger, they marched us through the mist towards the colossal building, like we were criminals. The gray fog gradually gave way to the looming silhouette of the supermarket. Its cold, blocky exterior loomed over us, devoid of any writings or brand logos.
The pavement near the glass-doored entrance was littered with tents, makeshift barricades, and clusters of people. They stared at us as we passed. Directly in front of the entrance stood a haphazardly-constructed fort, crafted from wood and corrugated metal, and guarded by a dozen people or so. One of them in particular stared at me. I looked back. He carried a thick wooden staff wrapped in vines, and the top half of the tiger's head laid upon his own, so that the beast's teeth wreathed his forehead like a crown. His bare flesh bulged with great muscles, and a thick, white beard hid his jaws and neck.
Wait a minute.
“You’re Atlas’s kid,” he called out to me. “Girl from the hospital, right?”
That was the druid we met in Bronze.
The sickening thud of Roger's fall reverberated through my chest. For a moment, time stood still, then it hurtled forward with ruthless velocity.
I began to dash toward Roger, but Jack caught me by the wrist.
“We’re not his allies,” he hissed. “Don’t make them think we are.”
I felt a strange knot tighten in my stomach, a mix of guilt and frustration. I knew he was right. I knew if I ran up to Roger’s aid, the next shot would likely go to me.
Shadows darted about in the mist. They must’ve gotten their sights on us. Were these the people of the other factions? Surely they weren’t agents of the Bounty Hall, were they?
"It's OK," Jack whispered, his voice barely audible. His hand remained on my wrist, squeezing gently.
I drew a shaky breath, forcing myself to focus. My gaze slid to Saber. Her blade was drawn. And she had positioned herself to guard our flank. If we really needed to, perhaps we could fight our way out of this with her on our side. But I doubted it.
Jack, still scanning the vicinity, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Please Listen! We’re not with the Bounty Hall! We're neutral party!" His words reverberated off the silent asphalt and into the mist. "We’re not with that guy!"
I had my railgun slung across my back. Slowly, cautiously, I pressed a button near its grip to activate its metal-scanner ability.
Flashes of cobalt-blue light shone through the mist, as though I was seeing stars. But these lights had shapes. Shapes of sword or armor, some hidden behind nearby shacks, some in empty space. Some of the flashes fell outside the boundary of my peripheral vision, yet I saw them distinctly too – all 360 degrees around myself. And soon after the flashes appeared, they faded away.
I found eight distinct clusters of equipment. Eight combatants. Most were behind cover, but some of the flashes occupied what otherwise looked like empty space. Were those invisible foes? Now I doubted we had a chance of winning this at all, with Saber or without.
"Drop your weapons," an unseen voice commanded from the mist.
"What are you planning to do?" Jack asked, his voice steady, masking the undercurrent of tension. "We come as refugees. We came to the supermarket in search of shelter.”
No answer came. But I heard distant shuffling of feet that drew ever closer.
“Are you one of the factions here?” Jack asked. “We’re just lost people. Looking for a group to join.”
“Drop your weapons,” the same voice echoed dispassionately. “We can work something out.”
"Let’s surrender," I whispered. Jack gave a tacit nod at Saber. She clenched her jaws. Then, she slowly lowered her sword to the ground. I did likewise with my gun.
“Raise your hands above your heads," the same voice spoke.
We waited with our hands raised, staring into the mist, hoping we wouldn't meet the same fate as Roger. I saw his finger twitch. He was alive and conscious I’d assume, considering he had most of his HP still left. Perhaps he was staying down to avoid further aggression.
From the mist, figures emerged, their outlines hazy and blurred. As they neared, the details sharpened. A few men appeared out of thin air. They were armed with all sorts of weapons. Some wore armor; others were dressed in thick, layered clothes.
They confiscated our weapons, and they bound our wrists with handcuffs.
“We’re not gonna fight,” I told them as they snapped the metal rings shut around my wrists.
“You came with bounty hunter scum,” said the man handling me. He looked about middle-aged, with a disheveled, graying beard. He carried a crossbow at his waist and wore a leather jacket. “Can’t trust you too much, yeah?”
“Oh, that guy.” I looked to Roger. “He’s a defector from the Bounty Hall. You really didn’t have to put him down.”
It wasn't really true, but I hoped the claim would keep him safe, if these were an opposing faction. If rumors got out that Roger was actually a defector from the Bounty Hall, he'd find it harder to return. Perhaps he'd have no choice but to genuinely defect to our side, which might be a good thing in the long run. It was a manipulative tactic, one I hated to have used, but I convinced myself it was for the best.
Once they cuffed us all, even the bleeding Roger, they marched us through the mist towards the colossal building, like we were criminals. The gray fog gradually gave way to the looming silhouette of the supermarket. Its cold, blocky exterior loomed over us, devoid of any writings or brand logos.
The pavement near the glass-doored entrance was littered with tents, makeshift barricades, and clusters of people. They stared at us as we passed. Directly in front of the entrance stood a haphazardly-constructed fort, crafted from wood and corrugated metal, and guarded by a dozen people or so. One of them in particular stared at me. I looked back. He carried a thick wooden staff wrapped in vines, and the top half of the tiger's head laid upon his own, so that the beast's teeth wreathed his forehead like a crown. His bare flesh bulged with great muscles, and a thick, white beard hid his jaws and neck.
Wait a minute.
“You’re Atlas’s kid,” he called out to me. “Girl from the hospital, right?”
That was the druid we met in Bronze.
