Heavy boots dragged through the gray ash outside the botanical dome's glass barrier.
Dark blood smeared across the threshold, leaving a slick, metallic-smelling trail that caught the dim light of the dying afternoon.
Leo hauled the unconscious scout over the shattered iron frame, his shoulders burning under the dead weight of the grown man.
"Stay back!" Toby screamed, his voice cracking as he shoved the younger children behind a rusted iron planter.
His dirty hands trembled violently, pointing a jagged piece of rebar toward the intruder.
"He is one of them, Leo! He has got the Coalition mark on his shoulder!" Toby's eyes were wide with a terror that ran bone-deep.
Quiet down, Leo wanted to say, but his own breath was coming in ragged, shallow gasps.
With a heavy grunt, he lowered the scout onto the cracked concrete floor of the sanctuary.
No one else dies today, Leo thought, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth ached.
Images of his lost orphan family flashed through his mind, their desperate, reaching hands disappearing into a sea of collapsing rubble and ravenous jaws.
Reaching into his spatial inventory, Leo pulled out a small, glowing vial.
A swirling silver liquid sloshed inside the glass, a Grade-B Healing Elixir he had pulled from the dark pond just yesterday.
Steam rose from the scout's torn abdomen, where deep claw marks had shredded his armor and exposed raw, graying tissue.
Uncorking the vial, Leo pressed the rim against the man's pale, split lips.
"Drink it," Leo muttered, tilting the liquid down the man's throat.
Sputtering and coughing, the scout instinctively tried to turn his head away, but Leo held his jaw firm.
Flesh began to knit together almost instantly, silver threads of magical energy weaving across the ruined torso, closing the jagged tears left by whatever apex predator had hunted him.
Color returned to the scout's cheeks, a shallow, rattling breath finally clearing his lungs.
Slowly, the man's eyelids fluttered open, revealing bloodshot eyes filled with a primal panic.
"Where... where am I?" the scout whispered, his hands instantly clawing at his empty belt.
"You are safe," Leo said, keeping his voice low and steady as he held his hands up in a placating gesture.
"Nobody is safe," the scout rasped, spitting out a glob of dark blood onto the concrete.
Marcus was his name, stitched in faded yellow thread across his synthetic leather collar.
Toby stepped forward, still clutching the rebar, his knuckles white.
"He is a monster, Leo! Look at his gear! He belongs to the warlords who took our old camp!"
Marcus flinched at the boy's words, pulling his knees toward his chest.
"I am a runner," Marcus croaked, his voice cracking with dry exhaustion.
"I do not fight. I scout. Or... I did, before they decided to purge my unit."
Leo leaned in closer, his brow furrowed with a mixture of pity and growing dread.
"Why would your own people hunt you?" Leo asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Marcus let out a dry, bitter laugh that turned into a hacking cough.
"Because we saw too much," Marcus whispered, looking toward the glass dome.
"You think the monsters are just wandering out of the dungeons by accident?"
Silence stretched over the botanical garden, heavy and suffocating.
Leo felt a cold chill run down his spine, his stomach dropping into a bottomless pit.
"What do you mean?" Leo asked, his hands tightening into fists.
Marcus leaned his head back against the concrete, staring up at the glass ceiling.
"The Sovereign Coalition... they do not want to rebuild humanity," Marcus said, his voice trembling.
"They harvest pheromone cores from dead alpha beasts."
"They plant them near independent survivor enclaves to draw the herds directly to them."
Horror struck Leo like a physical blow, leaving him breathless.
"They herd them?" Leo whispered, his naive belief in human unity shattering into a thousand jagged pieces.
"They wipe out the strong, terrify the weak, and then ride in as saviors," Marcus explained, a tear cutting a clean path through the dirt on his face.
"You either sign their vassalage contract and become their slaves, or you get eaten."
"They are driving a massive horde of Razor-Backs this way right now to clear out this sector."
Toby let out a small, terrified sob, dropping his piece of rebar.
Leo stood up slowly, his mind racing as the brutal reality of the apocalypse crashed down on him.
Humanity was not fighting together against the dark; the strong were using the dark to skin the weak.
"I will protect you," Leo said, turning to look at the weeping children.
"I will protect all of you."
Suddenly, a sharp, phantom pain flared in his chest, making him gasp.
It felt like hot lead pouring directly into his sternum, radiating outward in dark, pulsing veins.
Sovereign's Anchor was demanding its toll.
Looking down, Leo noticed the vibrant green grass near the center of the dome had turned into a brittle, ash-gray powder.
Using his cheat to secure the sanctuary was slowly draining the life from the very soil beneath their feet.
Ignoring the agony in his chest, Leo marched toward the deep black pond in the center of the garden.
He needed more power.
He needed stats, skills, and weapons that could tear through a horde and shatter the Coalition's plans.
Unlimbering his cosmic fishing rod, he stared into the pitch-black water.
The surface was unnaturally still, reflecting absolutely nothing, not even the shattered glass ceiling above.
With a flick of his wrist, Leo cast his line deep into the dying pond.
Splash.
Water rippled outward in perfect, concentric circles, cutting through the thick layer of dust on the surface.
He waited, his muscles tense, his eyes locked on the glowing bobber.
The phantom burning in his chest grew stronger, a silent warning that he was pushing his luck too far.
He ignored it, gripping the handle of his rod with white-knuckled intensity.
Minutes felt like agonizing hours as the silence of the dome stretched on.
Behind him, the children huddled around Marcus, their hushed whispers filled with terror.
Suddenly, the water around the bobber began to boil.
Black bubbles rose to the surface, popping with a sickly, sweet smell of decay.
Leo braced his feet against the damp earth, feeling a sudden, massive weight on the other end of the line.
Something down there was looking back at him.
The bobber on Leo's line sinks with such violent force that it drags him toward the pond, and a pair of pale, human-like hands emerge from the pitch-black water, grasping the edge of his rod.