Brana felt as though the air around him wasn't real as he stared at the man before him. The image of Phil, the butler who for so many years had been a pillar of calm and stability in his life, now seemed like a distant echo. The once-impeccable figure was unrecognizable. A scraggly, unkempt beard covered his face, his eyes were sunken and weary, and his clothes were little more than dirty, tattered rags. The axe in his hands seemed far too heavy for him, but Phil held it firmly, watching Brana with a mixture of surprise and exhaustion.
"Phil?" Brana called, his voice weak, almost afraid of the answer.
The man blinked slowly, as if he needed a moment to process the call. "Master… Brana?" His voice was hoarse, as if it took every ounce of effort to speak.
Luma, standing beside Brana, clutched her brother's hand tightly, her wide eyes fixed on Phil. The contrast between the man before them and the memory they held of him was jarring. She tugged at Brana's sleeve, drawing his attention.
"Brana… it's Phil, isn't it? But… what happened to him?" Luma murmured, her voice filled with uncertainty.
"It's you?" Brana took a hesitant step forward, his heart racing.
Phil gave a faint smile, but it quickly faded, replaced by a solemn expression. "Yes… it's me." He averted his gaze for a moment, as if ashamed of the state he was in.
Luma let go of Brana's hand and ran toward Phil. "Phil!" she cried, throwing herself into his arms, even as he hesitated at her approach. Despite his calloused and battered hands, Phil embraced her carefully, closing his eyes for a moment.
"Luma… you're safe," he said, his voice almost breaking.
"And you're safe too! You're here, you're alive!" Luma replied, tears streaming down her face.
Phil looked at Brana, who now stood only a few steps away. Relief and guilt shone in his eyes. "I… I never thought I'd see you again. I thought…" He paused, unable to finish the sentence.
"But you're here now," Brana replied, his voice steadier. He stepped closer and placed a hand on Phil's shoulder. "We're together again. That's what matters."
For a moment, the joy of reunion filled the space between them, like a warm breeze on a cold day. But reality quickly weighed down when Brana asked the question that had been pounding in his mind. "What happened to you? How did you get here? And what about the rest of the household?"
Phil sighed, running a dirty hand over his face as if trying to organize his thoughts. "After… after everything fell apart, I was taken with the rest of the household. It was… chaotic. I don't know how, but we ended up in this place. At first, there were more of us… a larger group." He paused, gripping the axe tightly. "But this world… this world doesn't forgive. We lost many along the way. Monsters, hunger… despair. Every day felt more impossible to survive."
Brana remained silent, taking in every word. His stomach knotted when Phil mentioned the losses. "They were with you, weren't they?"
The question made Phil close his eyes for a moment. He shook his head slowly, avoiding Brana's gaze. "They… didn't make it. I'm sorry, boy."
Brana clenched his fists, looking away. Luma stared at him, concerned, but tears welled in her own eyes. She had known those people, and the thought that they were no longer alive was a heavy blow to her heart.
"That's not fair," Luma murmured, her voice trembling. "They were good people. Why them…?"
Phil placed a trembling hand on Luma's shoulder. "I wish I could have done more. But… what matters now is that we're alive. And we'll do everything we can to keep going."
As the conversation continued, the other survivors began to relax, though exhaustion and tension were still evident on their faces. The short-haired woman, who appeared to be the group's leader, finally introduced herself. "My name is Rael. This here is Garren," she said, gesturing toward a burly man with arms covered in scars. "And these are Tylen, Elris, and Nora."
Tylen was a wiry man with a suspicious expression, his messy hair falling over a short knife strapped to his belt. Elris, a young man with sharp eyes, carried a small bow and seemed inexperienced but determined. Nora, a short and agile woman, remained silent, though her precise movements suggested she was a skilled hunter.
"You helped us when we needed it most," Rael said, looking at Kaldor. "But we're not a burden. We've fought to get here. We don't need charity."
Kaldor raised an eyebrow, his expression impassive. "This isn't about charity. It's about survival. You came close to our base, which means we have a problem. We need to decide how to deal with you."
Brana glanced at Phil, who looked visibly exhausted but resolute. He knew Kaldor was right. Adding more people to the group meant dividing resources, increasing risks, and attracting more dangers.
"You have two options," Kaldor continued. "Head off in another direction, far from here, or we can help you establish a nearby camp, but separate from ours. We can't risk our safety for strangers."
Rael exchanged a glance with her group before turning to Brana. "If we can stay nearby… we can help. We know how to hunt, we know how to fight. We're not useless."
Brana bit his lip, torn. He wanted to trust Phil, but the responsibility of keeping everyone safe weighed heavily on his mind. He turned to Luma.
Luma, however, was equally conflicted. "Brana… I think we should help them. Phil always helped us before, didn't he? And these people… they look like they need us."
"I know, Luma," Brana replied, sighing. "But it's not that simple."
After a moment of reflection, Brana finally made his decision. He looked at Phil and Rael, his expression serious. "We'll help you set up a camp near ours. But it will be separate. We need to ensure everyone's safety."
Phil nodded, visible relief in his eyes. "Thank you, Brana. I don't know how we'll repay this."
Kaldor simply shrugged. "Let's start now. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can ensure this place stays secure."
The group spent the next few hours working together. Kaldor led the efforts, selecting a spot near the main base but far enough to avoid direct encounters. He pointed out strategic areas for building shelters, erecting barriers, and creating improvised defenses.
Luma, despite her small stature, was tireless, helping to carry branches and stones to reinforce the structures. Rael proved to be as determined as Luma, working alongside her to construct the barriers.
Phil, despite his injuries, insisted on helping, showing the same determination Brana had always admired in him. He used his axe to cut branches and carve stakes for the camp.
By the time they finished, Enkaryon's peculiar sun was beginning to set, its golden light blending with the glow of the three moons. The small, improvised camp was far from ideal, but it would suffice for the night.
As night fell, a gentle breeze brushed Brana's face, as if the world itself were trying to tell him something. He looked at Phil once more, searching the man before him for some trace of the Phil he had known. But the truth was clear: they were no longer the same people. Not Brana, not Phil, nor anyone in this fractured world.