Ryder looked at Nate, his face a mixture of skepticism and hope. "Alright, Nate," he said, his voice low, "what do you suggest we do?"
Nate glanced around at the scattered survivors. Many of them sat listlessly, their faces etched with despair. He gestured toward the wide expanse of the beach and the open forest beyond. "First off, we're too exposed," he said firmly. "If the beasts attack again, we'll lose more lives. Before anything else, we need shelter. A place where everyone can feel secure."
Ryder scratched his head, his brow furrowed. "There's a problem with that, though. Most of these people haven't said a word since we got back. They're too shaken. I doubt they'll listen, let alone work."
Nate smirked, surprising Ryder. "I have a way to get them moving."
Ryder's eyes narrowed in curiosity. "What are you planning?"
"Action," Nate said confidently, waving toward Madison, who stood a few meters away.
In an instant, Madison appeared before them, her teleportation ability allowing her to close the distance in the blink of an eye. Ryder stumbled back, his eyes wide. "This... this happened to you guys too?"
Nate nodded. "We're not just surviving, Ryder. We're adapting." He turned to Madison, his expression serious. "I need your help."
Madison straightened up, her face mirroring Nate's determination. "Anything you need," she said without hesitation.
Nate explained his plan to her in quick, efficient sentences. "We're going to build shelters for everyone, and I'm going to need all hands on deck. Ryder, you're going to help break down parts of the plane that can be used. Madison, you'll help move the heavy stuff with your teleportation. Amara—"
As if summoned by name, Amara walked over, overhearing the conversation. "What do you need me to do?" she asked, her fiery determination matching her ability.
"Help Ryder," Nate said, "use your fire to heat up the metal. That'll make it easier for Ryder to bend and break down what we need."
Amara nodded, already rolling up her sleeves.
Ryder cracked his knuckles, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright, let's do this."
The group approached the wreckage of the plane. Ryder flexed his superhuman strength, gripping a section of the fuselage. With a grunt, he pulled hard, the metal screeching as it bent.
"Madison, get ready," Nate said, pointing to a chunk of metal Ryder had pried free.
Madison teleported instantly, reappearing with the metal piece several meters away, where they were stockpiling materials for the shelters.
Amara stepped up, flames dancing in her palms. "This part looks tough," she said, pointing to a particularly stubborn piece of the plane's structure. She pressed her hands against the metal, heating it until it glowed red. Ryder grinned and easily tore the piece free.
Nate, watching the teamwork unfold, felt a surge of pride. "This is how we survive," he muttered to himself.
The other survivors watched from a distance, their expressions ranging from disbelief to curiosity. Bella was the first to break the silence. She approached Nate, her arms crossed, and let out a long sigh. "Alright," she said, her voice tinged with reluctant respect. "How can I help?"
Nate didn't even look at her as he asked, "What's your power?"
"Telekinesis," Bella replied simply.
Nate pointed toward a pile of debris. "Sort through that. Separate anything that looks usable from the junk. Focus on anything sturdy we can use for walls or supports."
Bella nodded and got to work, using her ability to lift and sort materials with an efficiency that surprised even her.
One by one, others began to join. Seeing the effort and determination of Nate and his team inspired them. A man named Jacob took charge of collecting wood from the forest. Another survivor, a young woman named Ella, began weaving vines and leaves to create thatch for roofing.
The atmosphere on the beach transformed. What had been a scene of despair became a hive of activity.
Hours turned into a full day of relentless work. Nate moved between groups, assigning tasks and offering words of encouragement. His leadership was unshakable, his energy infectious.
"Good work, Madison," he said as she teleported another heavy load.
"Keep it up, Bella," he called out, nodding approvingly as she levitated an entire section of the plane's wing.
Amara and Ryder worked side by side, their combined abilities making short work of the toughest parts of the wreckage. Ryder glanced at Amara, sweat beading on his brow. "You're pretty handy with that fire," he said with a grin.
Amara smirked. "And you're not half bad with that brute strength of yours."
Nate caught their exchange and couldn't help but chuckle. "Stop flirting and work your ass guys"
By the time the sun began to set, the first shelters were taking shape. Simple but sturdy, they offered a sense of security that had been sorely lacking.
Nate gathered everyone around the nearly completed structures. "Look at what we've done today," he said, his voice strong and confident. "This is just the beginning. We're stronger together, and we're going to keep getting stronger. But we need to keep this momentum. There's more work to be done, and it's going to take all of us."
The group murmured their agreement, their earlier despair replaced with determination.
As the survivors began to disperse for the night, Nate stood back, surveying their progress. Ryder clapped him on the shoulder. "You really pulled this off," he said.
Nate nodded, his gaze fixed on the shelters.
Nate stepped into one of the newly completed shelters, his exhaustion evident in every movement. The day had been grueling, and his body begged for rest. This particular shelter wasn't meant for him—he had chosen to give his own to the elderly couple who couldn't contribute much to the construction. He didn't mind. There were plenty of other places to sleep, even if they weren't as secure.
Lowering himself onto the ground, he leaned back against the wall, the cool wood offering some relief to his aching muscles. His forehead was damp with sweat, and his breathing was heavy. He reached for his water bottle, tilting it back, only to realize he had drained it completely.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, shaking the empty bottle.
Wiping his face with his hand, he felt the heat radiating from his skin. His body was burning up, likely from dehydration and overexertion. He tied his damp hair back, then leaned forward to the small basin of water near him. He cupped his hands, splashing the cool water over his face and neck.
As he stared into the rippling surface, his reflection caught his eye. He leaned closer, studying himself. His jawline seemed sharper, his arms bulkier than they had been a week ago. His chest and shoulders looked broader, and his muscles felt harder under his skin. He frowned slightly, unsure if it was just his imagination.
The sound of teleportation—an almost imperceptible pop—broke the silence. Nate looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.
Madison stood just a few feet away, her presence almost magnetic in the dim, cool air of the room. Her curly brunette hair was drenched, the dark locks clinging to her face and shoulders like a cascade of wet silk. She had evidently just returned from washing up, the remnants of water still beading on her skin, giving her an ethereal glow.
Her clothing was soaked through, rendering her attire almost non-existent in its transparency. The white undershirt she wore was now a second skin, the fabric almost see-through as it clung desperately to her body. It outlined every curve with an almost scandalous clarity.
Her breasts, massive and full, were perfectly showcased by the wet cloth. The shirt hugged her form, the outline of her nipples clearly visible through the thin, drenched material. Each curve was accentuated; the heavy, round shape of her breasts seemed to defy gravity, their fullness pushing against the confines of the shirt, creating shadows and highlights that danced with each breath she took.
Madison's beauty was breathtaking in that moment. Her face, framed by those wild, curly tendrils, seemed to radiate a natural allure. Her eyes, wide and expressive, held a mix of innocence and allure, the water droplets on her lashes like tiny jewels. Her lips, slightly parted from the coolness of the air, were a soft, inviting pink, and her cheeks bore the flush of someone who had just felt the shock of cold water.
The way the light caught her in this state made her look undeniably hot, a vision of raw, natural sensuality. Her figure, from the swell of her bust down to the curve of her hips, was a testament to feminine beauty, the wet fabric outlining every inch with a painter's precision. The sight of her, with water still trickling down her skin, was like witnessing art in motion, her body radiating heat despite the dampness, her every movement seeming to invite a closer look, to touch, to explore.
Nate swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His mind scrambled for something to say, but words failed him.