In the wake of the apocalypse, it seemed that those with supernatural abilities had transcended the constraints of their environment.
But this was still Earth—a world dominated by humanity. Humans, though often frail and ignorant, were a force to be reckoned with through their sheer numbers and relentless capacity to reproduce. Even after losing nearly 90% of the global population, millions still clung stubbornly to life in every corner of the world.
Some had resigned themselves to being sacrificial lambs, while others had been gathered under the banners of powerful factions.
For someone like Miles, who sought comfort and security in this new world, his current resources weren't enough. The struggles for dominance were unending, and in such a cruel environment, human nature only grew colder and more ruthless.
In Villa District C, Nathan returned with his six comrades, their steps heavy but determined.
Nicole, ever the dedicated teacher, assumed her role with practiced ease.
Brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, she asked, "Did they try to recruit you?"
Nathan nodded. "That Thomas is sharp. He only hinted at it, likely waiting for me to hit my breaking point and come to him willingly."
"As long as he's taking the bait," Nicole replied with a sly smile. "It means our little performance over the past few days is working. We'll add some fuel to the fire soon, and it should seal the deal."
The purpose of their charade was simple: make the South Mountain Academy students believe there was an opportunity to exploit. Once they successfully recruited Nathan, they would inevitably plot to attack Villa 104. That would be when Miles would strike, annihilating the ringleaders in one decisive blow.
It wasn't cruelty—it was survival. In a world like this, to show mercy was to invite destruction.
There's no such thing as guarding against thieves every day for a thousand days.
In another villa, Luther sat on the couch, restless and irritable. He scowled at Thomas, frustration etched on his face.
"Thomas, it's been five days already. How much longer are we going to wait? The guys are getting restless."
"Restless about what?"
"What else?" Luther snapped. "Thirty portions of food a day, and no sign of those damn roast chickens. Some of the guys don't even get scraps of chicken feathers, let alone meat. They're starving out there, working on empty stomachs. One or two days is manageable, but if this keeps up, it's only a matter of time before they revolt."
Miles's brilliance lay in his ability to exploit human nature. By rationing food so stringently amid such a large group, he created a breeding ground for resentment.
When some are fed and others starve, it breeds jealousy. Those who are full will hoard more, while those who go hungry will grow increasingly enraged. Over time, this simmering conflict would erupt into chaos. Even without Nathan and his companions adding external pressure, infighting would eventually break out among them.
A burly man weighing at least two hundred pounds growled, "Didn't they say Miles has a massive stockpile of supplies? What are we waiting for? Once we sow division among his people, taking that villa will be easy."
"You're underestimating him," Thomas interjected with a sigh. "Do you know how many people used to live in Cloud City? At least ten or twenty thousand. Now look—there aren't even three hundred left. Why do you think that is?"
The others fell silent as the weight of his words sank in.
"In a community that large, only three hundred survived. That tells you everything you need to know about Miles. He's ruthless. He used food to pit people against each other, watching them tear each other apart until only the strongest were left. He doesn't just defend himself—he eliminates threats before they can grow."
The room grew tense, faces pale with realization.
The burly man protested again, "That's all the more reason to strike first! Luther said the men are about to snap. If we don't make a move soon, they'll tear each other apart. The longer we wait, the worse this will get."
"Just two more days," Thomas said firmly, gazing out the window. "If Nathan's truly desperate, he'll seize the opportunity. And if he doesn't…"
If Nathan did nothing, it would prove his situation wasn't as dire as it appeared. It might even be a trap.
As night fell, casting the city into darkness, the leaders of South Mountain Academy gathered around a small brazier. The flickering flames offered little warmth but brought them together.
A guard approached, his breath visible in the cold. "Thomas, there's someone downstairs calling himself Nathan. He says he needs to talk and claims he's here for help."
Here it is.
Luther's face lit up. "Finally! Bring him in!"
Thomas hesitated briefly, but Luther had already made the call. It wasn't the time to second-guess now.
Nathan soon arrived, shivering as he was ushered to the sixth floor.
"Nathan, come warm yourself," Thomas said warmly, gesturing for someone to make space near the fire. He sat beside Nathan, his demeanor welcoming.
Nathan crouched by the brazier, rubbing his hands vigorously. Only after some time did he seem to thaw out, both physically and emotionally.
"Thomas," Nathan began hesitantly, "I've come to ask for help. My men… we're out of options. It's been three days without food or water. I was hoping you could lend me some supplies…"
Three or four days without food—anyone would be at their breaking point.
Thomas knew this was Nathan's moment of desperation.
Feigning concern, he asked, "But you've been working hard these past few days. How did it come to this?"
Nathan clenched his fists, his voice trembling with anger. "Yesterday, we found a zombie, but before we could even make a move, Anthony's crew swooped in and took it. They didn't stop there—they killed one of my men."
Counting the first incident, Nathan had now lost two comrades.
"That's outrageous!" Luther exclaimed, fanning the flames of Nathan's rage. "And Miles? He didn't intervene? I thought he'd have stepped in by now."
At the mention of Miles, Nathan shot to his feet, his fury boiling over.
"That bastard Miles!" he spat. "Not only did he ignore us, but today he even accused us of slacking off and docked our rations! Docked them! While he's in there feasting, we're out here starving!"
Thomas remained calm, watching Nathan's outburst with calculating eyes. "I find it hard to believe Miles, with all his supplies, would stoop to this…"
Nathan shook his head bitterly. "You don't understand. Miles is a devil. He's using us, and when the zombies are gone, we'll be useless to him—just another threat he'll eliminate."
And given how Miles had already whittled down a community of thousands to mere hundreds, Nathan knew he wasn't wrong.
"What do you plan to do about it?" Thomas pressed, his gaze sharp.
"What do you mean?"
Thomas leaned in, his voice low but insistent. "Are you just going to let Miles exploit you? Let Anthony humiliate you? If you keep enduring, what's left for you but death?"
He let the words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding.
"Will you silently bear the poisoned arrows of misfortune, or will you rise against the injustices of this world?"
Nathan looked torn, his face a portrait of inner conflict. Thomas didn't push further, waiting for the seeds of rebellion to take root.