'The important thing isn't what we do of ourselves, but what we do with what has been done of us.'
It's a quote that Lazar particularly likes. We made of him a person guided by hatred and anger and thanks to these words he understood very early on that he couldn't change how he felt. He understood that he had to exploit all these negative feelings that he had let him eat away so that they would become his main weapon for what he intended to achieve in his life.
He wasn't satisfied with the turn that recent events had taken, seeing that the bleeding from his wound had stopped when he emerged at the other end of the river had only managed to appease him for a time because he noticed the yellowish color of his wounds just after. He immediately deduced that the interaction with the dirty water of the river had accelerated the development of the infection of his wound, which made him go from a slightly irritable mood to a very pissed one.
'Pitiful... The morning of hunting had been fruitful, but at what price?'
It was in these moments that Lazar's anger was useful because it didn't make him lose control. On the contrary, it was his anger which was making him forget the pain and which allowed him to focus only on the essential. Namely, go home to heal as quickly as possible and then use the time he had left to gain as much power as possible before the Alphas decided to take action against him.
He didn't have the necessary equipment with him to effectively treat the infection and even if it did, deal with an injury like this would be complicated. He just sprayed a good amount of disinfectant on his wound and applied a bandage before putting his clothes on.
It was only a temporary measure, the important thing was that his wound wasn't visible so that it didn't attract the attention of the soldiers.
'If he sees me in a weak position, this mustached asshole will surely want to take advantage of it.'
Moving through the rooftops was impossible with the embarrassment of his injury, Lazar then took the map in his backpack and consulted it to find the quickest way to return home while bypassing the city. After a few moments of reflection to determine the best path to take, he started walking, he estimated that the route he had chosen would take 1 hour. The condition of his injury would surely worsen in the meantime and the walking time was 3 times longer than for the most direct route but it was a much more enviable option than taking the risk of meeting a pack on the way.
After 45 minutes of traveling, arriving without arousing suspicion became an increasingly unrealistic scenario for Lazar. He had a fever, his fatigue became heavier and heavier with the passing of the minutes, his vision was blurred to the point that he almost couldn't make out the paths on his map and his wound oozed out through his bandage. He wasn't walking anymore, he was staggering.
The infection had developed very quickly, far too quickly, there was something weird with it, and seeing how quickly his condition had worsened, Lazar began to wonder if he wouldn't be already dead if he hadn't put all his points in constitution.
He felt like shit, but ironically he had arrived at the entrance of his street faster than he had expected. He had calculated his journey time by taking the walking abilities of a normal person as standard, but it must be believed that he had become much faster than that now, even staggering.
Treating his infection on his own wasn't possible anymore, he couldn't even walk properly so when it came to closing his wounds by re-stitching himself, let's not talk about it... He was going to have to ask for help to the military and that made him feel much worse than his wound in itself, just give the colonel the satisfaction of knowing that he needed the army gave him the sheaf.
'Hmmm?'
The army had surely had to divide its troops to evacuate the civilians, there remained only half of the trucks he had seen this morning, parked on both sides on the road of the street. But, that wasn't what caught Lazar's attention, there was something really weird... there were no soldiers around.
He then began to wonder if they hadn't already gone to fight, if it was, it would be both good and bad news. As for the good one, it would mean that this moron of colonel wasn't that stupid and that he had listened to him when he advised him to move with discretion by not taking the trucks. The bad news was obviously that he needed help now and that there would be no one to give it to him.
'No, they're not far, I can't see them leaving like that with nobody to watch the trucks.'
He continued to move forward, using the trucks parked to the left of his sidewalk to lean on and peered in front of him looking for someone to help him. He moved like that for several tens of meters then he stopped dead.
He let go of the rearview mirror of the truck he was leaning on and straightened up. His eyes regained their brightness, his face lost his pallor and he began to walk as if his body had forgotten that he was badly injured. The rearview mirror that Lazar was holding before was now completely cracked, he had destroyed it with the pressure he had applied with his grip and for the good reason that he had just seen something that was going to make his day even more crappy than it was already.
'That motherfucker did it anyway!'
It doesn't matter that he needs them, when he saw all these soldiers surrounding his house that was way too much to swallow. He drew his blade and advanced towards them, at the slightest other affront he intended to use it to decapitate the colonel, the person at the origin of this masquerade, even if it means there will have collateral damages to make it happen. Nobody had yet noticed his arrival and when he arrived 30 meters from the crowd he understood why, their attention was already turned to someone else.
'What is this mess?'
Someone was blocking the entrance to his door, a woman of an unspeakable beauty of about 5 feet 5 inches tall. She must been in her mid-twenties and had mid-long golden hair with a braid above her forehead and others on the left and right sides of her skull, presumably to prevent her hair from bothering her when she fights.
Lazar was immune to the beauty of women but any other man who was sensitive to it would be captivated by her who inspired a feeling of inaccessibility. She had a thin and elongated face with dark blue eyes in which it was easy to get lost, an upturned nose and thin lips, a generous chest, and a very athletic physique.
On the other hand, a few details showed that she was the kind of person who didn't like to attract attention, she was dressed in a black tracksuit, black sneakers, and a black t-shirt and wore neither makeup nor varnish or jewelry, you would think it was due to the apocalypse but it seemed to be a usual thing for her.
Lazar already had a good opinion of her for what she was doing and it improved even more when he watched her. Her gaze was slightly similar to his, unperturbed and determined, seeing her resist to nothing less than nearly 250 trained soldiers, he immediately understood that like him she wasn't the kind of person who let herself be stepped on or that should be provoked. This led him to ask himself an obvious question.
'What the hell is she doing here?'
Approaching closer he saw why she managed to keep everyone at distance. From afar he had already noticed the bow and the arrow surrounded by an aura in her hands, but it was only by taking a few more steps that he saw the man immobilized on the ground for whom the arrow was intended.
When the woman noticed his arrival and their eyes met, Lazar saw her eyes light up and a smile appear on her face, he was sure not to know who she was and yet she seemed to have recognized him.