Waking up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the patched window, I stretched, the dull ache in my chest and my missing eye a constant reminder of how fragile our survival here was. The loft felt more cramped than usual, probably because it wasn't just a place to sleep anymore—it was the safest spot in the cabin.
Climbing down the ladder, I rubbed my face and groaned. It wasn't even noon, and I already had a headache. The sight before me didn't help.
There was Emma, standing with her arms crossed, looking like some miniature foreman at a construction site. The skeleton from the chair—the one she'd raised—was sweeping the floor with a broom it had made from branches and scraps of cloth. Emma had apparently ordered it to keep the place spotless. It been a week since the day Emma gained sentience.
"You're seriously making it clean now?" I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.
Emma turned to me, her expression smug. "Of course. Cleanliness is next to godliness, you know."
"Yeah, well, we're nowhere near a church," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "I told you, it just needs to be functional. Not... whatever this is."
Emma huffed. "Functional is boring. Besides, if we're going to be stuck here, why not make it livable? The Calamityhound already fixed the walls, and the skeleton here is great at repairs."
I sighed, glancing at the undead monstrosity in question. The Calamityhound—still as massive and menacing as ever—was carefully positioning wooden planks over the broken window, its movements disturbingly precise. If it weren't for the glowing red eyes and grotesque form, I might have mistaken it for a carpenter.
"Right," I said, crossing my arms. "Because nothing says 'home sweet home' like undead labor."
Emma smirked. "You're welcome."
I walked to the table, where Jack was sitting, scribbling something on a piece of bark with a charcoal stick we'd made. He looked up at me briefly, his expression as unimpressed as ever, before returning to his work.
"Morning, Jack," I said. "What's the daily disappointment today?"
Jack held up the bark—it was a crude map of the area around the cabin, complete with landmarks like the river, berry bushes, and the monster's attack site.
"Oh," I said, blinking. "That's... actually helpful."
Jack rolled his eyes and went back to scribbling.
I glanced at Emma again, who was now barking orders at the skeleton about dusting the shelves. This was my life now: undead cleaning crews, a hyper-competent toddler with a grudge, and a week of tenuous peace in a world that seemed determined to kill us.
At least the roof didn't leak anymore.
The kitchen was, unsurprisingly, the cleanest place in the cabin now. Emma's obsession with order had turned it into a functional if rudimentary space, even if it was still lacking the basics like running water. I sighed, grabbing an apple from the pantry, which had been "fixed" by the Calamityhound. It wasn't exactly a work of art—just wooden slats hammered together—but it worked well enough to store our meager supplies.
I bit into the apple, savoring the tart crunch as I trudged back to the loft. The others—Noah, Mera, Cael, and Star—were still asleep, tucked in the makeshift bedding we'd cobbled together from scraps of fabric and moss. They hadn't gained full sentience yet, though their occasional babbling or gestures made me think it wouldn't be long.
"No rest for the weary," I muttered, finishing the apple and tossing the core into a basket we'd been using as a trash bin.
I started with Noah, the most restless of the group even in his sleep. Picking him up carefully, I carried him down the ladder and placed him on the couch we'd salvaged from the wrecked cabin. His little legs kicked slightly, but he stayed asleep.
Next was Mera, who was always the heaviest sleeper. She barely stirred as I carried her down, her tiny hands clutching a piece of cloth she'd taken to using as a comfort object.
Cael and Star were easier, being lighter and less fidgety, though Star grumbled faintly as I set her down beside Mera.
Once they were all settled in the living room, I took a step back and stretched, my back protesting the effort. Carrying toddlers up and down a ladder was quickly becoming my least favorite part of this setup.
"Alright, that's everyone," I said aloud, though no one was really listening.
Emma glanced over from her cleaning spree, her hands on her hips. "About time. Now what? Another day of foraging and babysitting?"
"Pretty much," I replied, rubbing the back of my neck. "Unless you've got a secret stash of formula or baby food hidden somewhere, that's the plan."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. I turned back to the group, watching them as they lay sprawled out on the couch and floor, blissfully unaware of how precarious our situation still was.
"At least they're quiet," I muttered, grabbing another apple for the road. "For now."
Going outside to a nearby tree stump that was cut down thanks to Emma Undead Calamity Hound
I sat on the stump and entered my inner world, I couldn't help but marvel at how much more refined Mind Map had become. It wasn't just a crude overlay of the forest anymore—it was detailed, interactive. I could toggle the presence of trees, adjust my view to see clearer paths, and even detect creatures in the vicinity.
The classifications were straightforward yet invaluable. The snake I'd encountered earlier was glowing yellow, a cautious signal. Green marked harmless entities, while red screamed imminent danger. The grays were the wild cards—creatures or entities I hadn't yet encountered, their threat level still unknown until classified.
I shifted my focus, scanning for food. A rabbit nest, maybe, or a cluster of fruit-bearing trees. My attention was drawn to a promising yellow blip near a hollow tree—it could be a rabbit burrow. But before I could plan my approach, something unexpected entered the map's range.
A cluster of grays.
They moved in synchronized formations, unlike anything I'd seen before. My first instinct was to dismiss them as birds, but their movement didn't match. They weren't navigating around the trees; they moved through the forest in a straight, unbroken line, as if the obstacles didn't matter.
My chest tightened. Monsters? Or people?
If they were monsters, their synchronized behavior could indicate a pack—a coordinated threat far more dangerous than a lone Calamityhound. If they were people, that raised even more questions. Friend or foe? Did they even know I existed out here?
The grays were heading straight toward the cabin. Their pace wasn't rushed, but it was deliberate.
I snapped out of my inner world, my surroundings flooding back in a blur. The sun filtered through the trees, serene and indifferent to my mounting anxiety. I stood, brushing dirt off my pants, and turned toward the cabin.
If this cluster of grays was hostile, we weren't prepared for a confrontation—not with four toddlers and a somewhat recovered me. Emma's undead Calamityhound might even the odds, but only if it were a physical fight. If these grays were armed, coordinated humans, that was a whole different battle.
I needed to decide fast. Scout them out, or prepare for the worst?
I ducked back into the cabin, the door creaking slightly behind me. Emma was in the living room, orchestrating her skeleton minion like some deranged conductor, while Jack sat on the table, still sporting his perpetually annoyed expression.
"Bad news," I announced, trying to keep my voice steady, though my chest still felt tight. "We may have visitors."
Emma immediately turned to me, her eyes lighting up with equal parts curiosity and alarm. "Visitors? Like… people? Or monsters?"
I sighed, rubbing my temples. "I don't know yet. Something's moving toward us. A cluster of... somethings. They're synchronized, and they're heading straight for the cabin. Could be monsters, could be people. Either way, we need to prepare."
Jack, as usual, looked unimpressed, but Emma's expression turned to one of mock excitement. "Ooooh, maybe they're here to take us to some fancy palace, like in those novels! Or maybe they'll offer me—uh, us—a chance to be rich and powerful!"
I glared at her. "Or maybe they'll be armed and dangerous, in which case your Calamityhound better be ready to fight."
Her excitement faded, and she gave a small nod. "Fine, fine. What's the plan?"
I glanced around the room. "First, barricade the doors and windows again. Properly, this time. Second, keep the kids upstairs in the loft. They don't need to be part of this. Jack, you help me keep watch."
Emma rolled her eyes but started giving orders to her undead minions, the skeleton immediately clanking its way toward the door to fetch materials.
"And Emma?" I called, stopping her in her tracks.
She turned, raising a brow.
"If these visitors are hostile, and you get any ideas about raising them from the dead after we deal with them…" I let the unspoken warning hang in the air.
Her smirk was unsettling. "No promises."
I sighed again and headed for the window, peering out at the quiet forest. Whatever was coming, it wouldn't be long now.
The moment finally came. After what felt like hours—though the sun hadn't even reached its peak—the visitors emerged from the treeline. Through the partially boarded-up window, I could make out their silhouettes before they came into full view.
And yeah, they were people. If "people" was a generous term for their rugged appearance.
Their clothes were patched and frayed, a mix of leather and tattered fabric with the occasional metal plating. They carried weapons—mostly crude swords, axes, and a couple of crossbows—clearly well-used. Their faces were dirty, scarred, and hardened by survival. Nice wasn't exactly the word that came to mind.
I felt Emma tap my shoulder. She was perched on a stool next to me, waiting for a lift. "Well? What do they look like?"
I groaned internally but complied, hoisting her up so she could see out the window. She squinted for a moment before grimacing. "Oh, no. What are they wearing?"
"Emma," I hissed. "Focus."
She ignored me, pointing at one of the larger men in what looked like a mismatched collection of armor pieces. "That one—does he not know what coordination is? Leather pants with a chainmail vest? Ugh. And that helmet looks like he stole it from a child's toy box."
"Emma," I repeated, more forcefully. "Not the time."
She tilted her head, unbothered. "I mean, if you're going to be a marauder or whatever, at least try to intimidate people with some flair. Look at that guy's cloak! It's more holes than fabric. Tragic."
I set her down, resisting the urge to shake her. "We're not here to critique their wardrobe. Did you position the Calamityhound?"
She nodded, still muttering about their "design choices." "Yeah, it's flanking them from behind. Not that it'll need to do much—these guys look like they can barely afford soap, let alone a proper fight."
I peeked out the window again as the group stopped a few meters from the cabin, their leader—a grizzled man with a jagged scar across his jaw—barking orders. Their weapons glinted in the sunlight as they surveyed the area, clearly deciding whether to approach the cabin or not.
"Well," I whispered, more to myself than Emma. "Let's see what they want."
Stepping outside, I faced the bandits—because let's be honest, they were clearly bandits. The ragged appearance, the weapons, and the suspicious way they scanned the cabin screamed trouble.
They looked a bit surprised when they saw me. Understandable, considering I was just a kid standing alone in the middle of the woods outside an old cabin. One of them, a man with a jagged scar on his jaw and what could only be described as a sneer permanently etched on his face, stepped forward.
I could almost hear Emma's inevitable commentary from inside the cabin, probably mocking his unkempt appearance or mismatched armor. But I pushed that thought aside as the man sized me up.
The interrogation began.
"Who are you?" he barked, his voice rough and gravelly.
"Si Xin," I answered plainly.
"What are you doing here?"
"Living," I said, not bothering to elaborate.
They exchanged glances, clearly not expecting that.
The questions kept coming, and I answered each one, carefully keeping my answers vague enough not to give anything important away. They asked where I was from, and I gave them a noncommittal shrug. Then, I decided to test something.
"What year is it?" I asked.
The scarred man gave me an odd look but answered, "1996."
My mind spun. So this is Earth—well, a version of it. But it's definitely not the one I knew.
"What's this place called?" I asked, gesturing to the forest.
"The Great Forest of Aequor," one of them replied, as if it were common knowledge.
That raised even more questions, but I kept my expression neutral.
"Where is this forest located?"
The leader frowned, looking at me like I'd just asked the dumbest question in the world. "Pangea," he said, his tone almost mocking.
Pangea. That confirmed it. I was on Earth—but not the one I knew.
"And you?" I asked, tilting my head. "Where are you from?"
"America," he said, and I caught a faint smirk on his face.
I raised an eyebrow. "America?"
"Yeah. You know, the good ol' United States?" he said, his smirk widening.
I nodded slowly, digesting this information. So, there were still countries here. This wasn't some entirely alien world. But Pangea… that was new.
"Well," I said, crossing my arms. "What do you want?"
The leader's smirk faded, and his expression hardened. "Shelter. Food. Anything you've got that's useful."
Of course. Typical bandit behavior. I resisted the urge to sigh, knowing this encounter wasn't going to end peacefully.
Without a word, I gave a subtle hand signal to Emma. She didn't need further instructions; the undead Calamity Hound moved swiftly and silently, taking out the two crossbowmen at the back of the group before they could react. Their gurgled cries were muffled, and they crumpled to the ground.
The remaining eight bandits froze in shock, weapons drawn. One of them shouted, "Why is a Hound here? No way... is there an Insurgence nearby?"
Another, wide-eyed and panicking, pointed at the creature. "Wait, look! Its flesh... it's rotting!"
The leader turned sharply to face me, his earlier smugness replaced by suspicion. He studied me with narrowed eyes before speaking, his voice colder than before.
"I knew it. You're a metahuman."
That word—metahuman—caught my attention, raising more questions than I had answers for. I kept my expression neutral, hiding the whirlwind of thoughts racing through my mind.
"Metahuman?" I repeated, feigning ignorance. "What's that supposed to mean?"
The leader sneered. "Don't play dumb. You've got powers. You're not just some lost kid in the woods." He gestured toward the undead Calamityhound, which was still standing menacingly behind the bandits. "That thing proves it."
I didn't respond, but inside, I was piecing things together. This was clearly a world where people like me—or people with powers—existed and were known to others. If these bandits thought I was a metahuman, it meant they likely didn't suspect the truth about me or Emma. For now, I could use that misunderstanding to my advantage.
The leader took a step closer, his hand hovering near the hilt of his sword. "Listen, kid. If you cooperate, we won't have to hurt you. Just hand over whatever you've got—food, weapons, anything useful—and we'll leave you alone."
I smirked, gripping the worn knife at my side. "I think you've got the wrong idea."
This wasn't going to end with talking.
As the bandits continued their stand-off, I activated my ability, the one I've come to call "Weakness Detection." Experimenting with Jack and Emma earlier confirmed something important: only I can see the glowing red circles that highlight weak points. For Jack and Emma, their entire bodies had been marked, probably because they were unarmored and vulnerable. But for these bandits, the red circles appeared scattered across different parts of their bodies—some covered by armor, others exposed.
This difference was critical. Their armor wasn't perfect, leaving gaps I could exploit.
I subtly signaled to Emma while pretending to scratch my side, then gestured at different parts of my own body to indicate the bandits' weak points. She caught on immediately, her eyes lighting up with mischievous glee. The bandits still hadn't noticed her peeking from the cabin or realized the undead Calamityhound was hers, not mine.
They thought I was the summoner.
The leader stepped closer, his confidence returning. "Look, kid, you can barely hold that knife. Summoning that thing must've drained you. Just give up now, and we'll let you live. No need to make this harder than it has to be."
I smirked, holding the knife steady. "You really think I'm the one you should be worried about?"
Before he could process my words, Emma gave a sharp whistle from inside the cabin, and the Calamity Hound leaped into action. It struck with surgical precision, targeting the weak points I'd signaled. The bandits barely had time to scream as two more of their number fell, their throats slashed by the hound's claws.
Chaos erupted. The leader shouted commands, but their formation broke as panic spread through the group. I took a step back, staying just out of reach, letting Emma's undead do the heavy lifting.
One of the bandits yelled, "How is it so precise? It's just a monster!"
Another screamed, "The summoner must be controlling it! Kill the kid!"
Perfect. They still hadn't figured out Emma was the real summoner. Their attention stayed locked on me, giving her the upper hand to keep commanding the Calamityhound without suspicion.
This fight was far from over, but for the first time since encountering these bandits, I felt like we had a real chance.
With the two crossbowmen eliminated, the remaining bandits—13 in total—were all melee fighters. Each of them carried a mix of weapons: swords, axes, and makeshift clubs. They surrounded me with wary eyes, their leader barking orders to regroup. The Calamityhound growled low from its position, its presence keeping the bandits on edge.
Emma remained hidden in the cabin, keeping her control over the undead beast subtle. I could see the frustration growing in the leader's expression; he still thought I was the one controlling the hound. That misconception was my only advantage.
The leader pointed his sword at me. "Spread out! Surround him! That thing can't protect him forever!"
I raised my hands, knife still in one, trying to play up the role of a desperate summoner. "You really want to do this? You've already lost two of your men. What's stopping me from summoning another monster?"
The bluff bought me a moment of hesitation from a few bandits. Some faltered, their eyes darting nervously to the Calamityhound. Others, however, tightened their grips on their weapons, emboldened by their leader's resolve.
"We've fought worse than you, brat!" one of them snarled, charging forward.
Emma didn't need my signal this time. The Calamityhound lunged, intercepting the attacker with a brutal swipe that sent him sprawling. Blood sprayed across the forest floor, and the remaining bandits hesitated again.
12 left.
Using my Weakness Detection, I spotted vulnerabilities in their formation. The leader was well-armored, but two bandits near his left flank had exposed legs, and another to his right had a poorly strapped chest plate. These gaps would be my targets.
"Keep them focused on me," I muttered under my breath, pretending to address the hound.
I took a deliberate step forward, drawing attention to myself. "You think I'm just some kid? You're in my forest now."
Emma seized the opportunity, sending the Calamity Hound into a sudden charge. It barreled into the left flank, targeting the bandits I'd marked. One fell screaming, his leg slashed open, while another stumbled backward, dropping his weapon.
The leader shouted, "Form up! Take it down already!"
But they were uncoordinated, their movements growing more frantic with each strike.
10 left.
It was working. Slowly but surely, we were cutting their numbers down. But the Calamityhound couldn't keep this up forever, and neither could I. I needed to end this quickly before the bandits caught on to Emma's role in all of this—or before one of their lucky strikes took me out.
Inside the cabin
The cabin was eerily quiet compared to the chaos outside. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she leaned against the wall, her fingers twitching slightly as she manipulated the Calamity Hound like a puppeteer pulling strings. She yawned, bored more than anything, and glanced over at Jack, who sat nearby with his usual grumpy expression, arms crossed as he stared at her.
"What?" Emma asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice dripping with impatience.
Jack silently pointed at one of the dead bodies in the room, left there after the earlier skirmish with the bandits. His gaze shifted back to her, narrowing as if expecting an answer.
Emma rolled her eyes. "Oh, you want to know how I feel about killing people?" she asked, feigning surprise before letting out a mocking laugh. "Please. I get kidnapped almost all the time. Like, all the time. And guess what? Most of those idiots end up dead anyway. I got over it ages ago." She shrugged casually, still guiding the Calamityhound with precise movements as it tore through another bandit outside.
Jack frowned and pointed to the loft, where Si Xin had been earlier. His meaning was clear: What about him?
Emma shrugged again, this time with a slight smirk. "Don't know. He's got his whole 'leader of the group' thing going on, so maybe he feels something. Or maybe not." She leaned her head back against the wall. "Does it even matter? We're alive, they're not, end of story."
Jack's grumpy expression deepened, but he didn't press further. Instead, he glared at the dead body again, as if silently brooding over the morality of it all. Emma couldn't help but chuckle to herself. He's so dramatic, she thought, focusing back on the hound.
Through its eyes, she watched as it ripped through another bandit's poorly protected chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Nine left, she noted, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. The battlefield was hers to control, even if Si Xin got the credit.
"Tell you what, Jack," she said idly, glancing over at him. "If we survive this and you're still feeling moody, I'll let you name the next corpse. How's that sound?"
Jack didn't respond, just buried his face in his hands. Emma laughed again, her attention shifting back to the carnage outside and sees another bandit fall.
Emma glanced over at Jack again, watching as he slumped on the floor, his face still buried in his hands. A mischievous grin spread across her lips. She figured she'd at least try to lighten the mood, though she didn't have high hopes.
"So, Jack," she began casually, her tone almost sing-song, "what do you think we should do after this? Maybe we could build a little garden or something. You know, grow our own food. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Jack raised his head just enough to give her a withering glare, his expression saying everything his voice couldn't.
"Oh, right," Emma said, snapping her fingers dramatically. "I keep forgetting. You can't talk yet, can you? Poor baby Jack. Stuck being the youngest. How does that feel? Hmm?"
Jack's glare intensified, but he didn't move. Emma's smirk widened. She couldn't help herself—it was too easy.
"Come on, you can still nod or shake your head," she teased, leaning forward. "Do you think Si Xin's losing it out there? Or is he handling it like a champ?"
Jack rolled his eyes, then pointed at the hound through the window as it pounced on another bandit, sending the poor soul flying into a tree.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," Emma said with a wave of her hand. "The hound's doing most of the work. But Si Xin's the one playing decoy, so he gets, like… half the credit. Maybe a quarter." She gave a dramatic sigh. "You know, this whole situation would be so much easier if you could just talk. You'd probably give me some smug response right about now."
Jack crossed his arms and looked away, clearly done with her antics.
Emma shrugged, leaning back against the wall again. "Fine, be that way. Silent treatment suits you."
She returned her focus to the hound, but a small part of her felt bad. Even though she didn't show it, she knew Jack had it rough. Being stuck in the smallest, most baby-like form of the group and unable to speak was frustrating for him—and Emma's teasing probably didn't help.
"Hey," she said after a moment, her tone softer. "Once you figure out how to talk again, you better not hold back. I want to hear all your snarky comebacks, okay?"
Jack glanced at her from the corner of his eye and gave a faint nod. It was enough for Emma to smile, even if she didn't let it show too much turning bacm to the battle seeing another fell as their screams echo.
Emma smirked as another bandit fell, her hound tearing through the opposition with ruthless efficiency. She glanced back at Jack, who was still sitting grumpily on the floor, arms crossed.
"Seriously, Jack," Emma continued, her tone a mix of amusement and sincerity, "you're probably the only one who could talk some sense into Si Xin if he ever cracks. Let's face it, the rest of us? We're not exactly therapist material."
Jack raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to elaborate.
"Noah?" Emma began, ticking names off on her fingers. "The guy's pure chaos. He'd probably just tell Si Xin to 'run faster' or 'try harder' and call it a day. Mera?" Emma chuckled dryly. "Yeah, she'd probably suggest solving everything with violence. Great advice, really."
She paused to glance at the hound as it cornered another bandit, the poor man's screams cut short. "Then there's Cael and Star. Love them, but let's be real—they'd just rush into something half-baked and hope for the best. And me?" She gestured dramatically to herself. "I'm a fashion designer. I can sew, I can critique, and I can reanimate the dead, but I don't do therapy. That's beneath my skillset, darling."
Jack shook his head, his lips twitching as if suppressing a laugh.
"Which leaves you," Emma concluded, pointing at him. "You're the only one who seems... grounded. I mean, once you figure out how to talk again, you could give Si Xin advice. Help him sort out his issues, you know? Like why he keeps playing hero when he's literally got one eye and no combat training."
Jack looked at her with an expression that clearly said, And you don't see the irony in calling me grounded?
Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Don't give me that look. I'm serious. You'd make a good shrink. Besides, if you don't, Si Xin's going to end up taking advice from Mera, and none of us want that."
The hound made quick work of another bandit, leaving just four standing. Emma leaned back, her expression turning thoughtful.
"Think about it," she said, giving Jack a playful nudge with her foot. "If you're not going to talk, you might as well get ready to be everyone's unofficial therapist. Si Xin's gonna need it after this mess."
Jack rolled his eyes but gave a small nod, as if reluctantly accepting the role. Emma grinned and turned her attention back to the fight outside.
She notes theres only three left including the leader looks likes about to end at as expected the leader in a last ditch effort tries to deal with Si Xin.
Emma smirked as the leader of the bandits made a desperate move, rushing toward Si Xin with reckless abandon. She didn't even flinch, her control over the hound precise and unwavering.
"Predictable," she muttered under her breath as the undead Calamity Hound intercepted the charge, its massive claws slicing cleanly through the leader's weapon and armor. The man's scream echoed briefly before he fell silent, crumpling to the ground in a heap.
Emma leaned back with a satisfied sigh. "And that's the end of that." She glanced at Jack, who seemed to relax slightly now that the fight was over.
...
The moment the leader hit the ground, the tension in my chest loosened, but only a little. My breathing was heavy, each intake of air scraping against my throat like sandpaper. The leader's lifeless body lay sprawled out in front of me, his weapon shattered into useless pieces.
It was over. Finally.
I let out a shaky breath and leaned against the tree stump nearby for support. My body ached all over, and my injured chest throbbed with every heartbeat. The stench of blood and dirt filled my nose, mingling with the faint metallic tang of adrenaline still pumping through my veins.
The hound stood motionless, its glowing eyes fixed on me as if awaiting further orders. I gave a small nod toward the cabin. "Stand down," I muttered, my voice hoarse.
It obeyed immediately, lumbering off to the side and sitting down like some grotesque guard dog.
I turned to the remnants of the fight: the bodies strewn across the clearing, the broken weapons, the patches of churned-up earth. My eye lingered on the leader's corpse for a moment before shifting to the cabin.
Emma was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed and looking smug as ever. Jack stood just behind her, his expression a mixture of relief and exasperation.
I walked toward them slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last. My vision blurred slightly, and I blinked a few times to clear it.
"Well," I said, my voice quiet but steady, "that's one problem dealt with."
Jack rolled his eyes and gestured toward the cabin, clearly signaling for me to get some rest. I nodded, too tired to argue.
As I passed them and stepped inside, the exhaustion hit me like a wave. The fight was over, but I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. Pangea was a dangerous place, and if a single recon unit could cause this much trouble, I didn't want to think about what might come next.
For now, though, we'd survived. That was enough.
I both turned to the remaining bandits two male and female. After ensuring the remaining bandits were subdued, Emma and I dragged them into the cabin. The two were tied up securely with some old ropes we found in the basement. It wasn't the best material, but it would hold for now.
The undead Calamity Hound stood guard over them, its hollow eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Its very presence seemed to unnerve the prisoners, who shifted uncomfortably in their bindings, stealing terrified glances at the creature.
Noah, meanwhile, was crouched near the prisoners, his youthful curiosity on full display. He poked at one of them with a stick he'd found outside, tilting his head as though trying to figure out what made them tick.
He waved the stick around dramatically, as if casting some kind of spell. The bandit flinched, looking genuinely terrified.
"Should we stop him?" I asked Emma, raising an eyebrow as I leaned against the wall, still catching my breath.
Emma shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, let him have his fun. If they're scared of a toddler with a stick, they're clearly not a threat." She shot a smug look at the prisoners. "Besides, they deserve a little humiliation after all the trouble they caused."
The bandits muttered something under their breath, but the hound growled softly, silencing them instantly.
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "We should probably interrogate them at some point. Figure out why they're here and what they know about this area."
Emma nodded. "Agreed. But first, we need to figure out what to do with Noah. He's one step away from trying to ride the hound like a horse."
Sure enough, Noah was now attempting to climb onto the undead creature's back, giggling to himself as if this was all just a game. The hound didn't react, standing perfectly still like a statue.
"Yeah... I'll handle that," I said, pushing myself off the wall and heading toward Noah.
As I approached, one of the bandits finally spoke up, his voice trembling. "W-what are you planning to do with us?"
I paused, turning to face him. My gaze was steady, though I knew the scar over my eye and the bloodstains on my clothes probably made me look more intimidating than I intended.
"That depends," I said calmly. "If you cooperate and answer our questions, we'll let you go. If not..." I glanced at the hound, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air.
The bandits paled, their earlier bravado completely gone.
"Good," I said with a faint smirk. "Let's start with something simple. Who sent you?"
...
As I listened to the bandits—James and Jess—explain what they knew, pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. Their story about the Insurgences and the rise of Metahumans wasn't completely new, but hearing it from their perspective added context I hadn't considered before.
Emma, however, looked completely bewildered. She raised a hand like she was in a classroom. "Wait, wait, wait—so you're saying all of this—Pangea, Insurgences, Metahumans—happened just after the Soviet Union collapsed? And now there are robotic animals and mutant humans running around everywhere? Why didn't anyone tell me life was going to get this dramatic?"
James glanced nervously at her before nodding. "Yeah, that's... pretty much the gist of it. And, uh, you didn't know that already?"
Emma scoffed. "Of course not! When I woke up here, I thought I was in some fantasy novel. Nobody handed me a world history manual when I gained consciousness!"
I shot her a look. "Emma, focus. This isn't storytime. We need to figure out what to do with them."
She crossed her arms, muttering something about how she still didn't have a clear idea of what was going on. Meanwhile, Noah had taken a seat on the floor, staring at the prisoners with the wide-eyed curiosity of a kid watching a movie.
I turned back to James and Jess. "You said you came here to loot after hearing about the battle. Were you planning to stick around, or is this just a quick hit-and-run for supplies?"
Jess hesitated, her eyes darting toward the undead hound before answering. "We weren't planning to stay. Pangea's dangerous enough without settling near an Insurgence site. But we thought... maybe there'd be some leftover tech or supplies we could trade back home. We didn't expect to run into anyone alive, let alone... this." She gestured toward the hound, shuddering.
"Well, you found us," I said flatly. "And now we have a problem. What's to stop you from coming back with reinforcements or spreading the word about this place?"
James quickly shook his head. "We wouldn't! I swear, we're not looking for trouble—"
"Not anymore," Jess muttered under her breath, earning a glare from him.
Emma stepped forward, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "Here's the thing, boys. We're not exactly trusting types. You did come here with weapons, after all. And looting, while exciting, isn't exactly a moral high ground."
James and Jess exchanged nervous glances.
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell us everything you know about the surrounding area—every settlement, every group, every Insurgence site you've heard of. And in return, we'll decide whether you walk out of here alive."
The two prisoners nodded frantically, their earlier bravado completely gone.
"Good," I said, sitting down on a nearby chair. "Start talking."