Xavier watched his father collapse from exhaustion, and something turned to steel within him. The sight ignited a determination that burned like white fire in his chest. He wouldn’t waste the second chance that had been given to him. He would get stronger and take it more seriously, no matter what the cost.

  In the quiet of his room that night, as the rest of the family recovered from the emotional weight of restored memories, Xavier sat cross-legged on his bed. His hands trembled slightly as images from the past timeline flickered across his mind, the experiences he had lived through, and the death he experienced.

  He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as his father had taught him. In and out. Steady. Control.

  But the memory surged forward anyway, refusing to be contained.

  They had been exploring an old Chevron gas station. Pablo was on lookout while Xavier and Josiah searched through the back, quietly scavenging whatever leftover food they could find.

  “Jackpot!” Josiah said excitedly, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “What’d you find, man?” Xavier asked, moving closer.

  Josiah held up several cans with a triumphant grin. “I got the beanie weenies, man!” He shook them gently. “It’s even got the pull-back top!”

  Xavier high-fived him, a rare moment of lightness in their grim reality. “We’ll be eating the good stuff tonight boyyyy.”

  “Will you guys hurry up!” Pablo hissed from the doorway, his silhouette tense against the fading daylight. “You know Hyenas are out scavenging around this same time. Let’s get it moving already.”

  “Yeah, let’s get moving X,” Josiah said while packing up the large backpack full of scrounged supplies. “Your dad will kill us if we’re late anyway.”

  “He’ll live,” Xavier muttered, his expression darkening.

  The two boys exchanged glances, and Josiah ventured, “Come on man, you know he’s just worried about you. You’re one of the last members of your family left.”

  “Dude, not cool,” Pablo chastised, glaring at Josiah.

  “My bad,” Josiah said quickly. “You know what I meant though, right?”

  “Yeah, I get it,” Xavier said, shouldering his pack. “But he’s so preoccupied with everyone else’s crap that he forgot I existed. I know he’s important but he could take the time to just be a dad sometimes… you know.”

  “Bullshit!” Pablo snapped, jabbing a finger at Xavier’s chest. “And you know it.” His eyes narrowed with frustration. “You’re so stuck up your own ass that you can’t even see the truth. Most of us don’t have a family anymore! He’s trying to be a dad to hundreds of people who need it more than you.”

  “Come on, P, relax man,” Josiah said, pushing his hands down in a calming gesture.

  “You’re right…my bad. The ‘little bit’ of attention that you’re complain about man, most of us would kill for,” Pablo continued, his voice rising despite the danger. “He loves you; grow up X.”

  The two stared at each other for a tense moment. Xavier turned to grab his pack, the words stinging more than he wanted to admit. When he turned back to respond, Pablo only stared blankly at him as the top half of his body was suddenly airborne.

  The Hyenas had arrived.

  As the world ended, everyone gained power but that wasn’t only limited to good people. The local maximum-security prison had become a hell on Earth. The mana infusion hit prisons around the world like a sledgehammer.

  A particular group of inmates from death row had banded together and nicknamed themselves Hyenas. They were a nasty and savage bunch who specifically hunted scavengers or any individuals who get separated from their group.

  Standing menacingly with a jagged saw blade wrapped around a piece of 2x4 stood Chris Samson; aka ‘Bloody Chris.’ He had been a popular local serial killer that had terrorized the rural areas for months before his capture. His practices of dismemberment and cannibalism had continued after The Fall, perhaps with even greater enthusiasm.

  “Hey boys, we gotta couple a’ lost sheep wandering around near dark,” he said, a massive grin splitting his face. The afternoon light caught on his yellow teeth, accentuating his bestial nature.

  Behind him emerged more figures; haggard, wild-eyed men and women with makeshift weapons and an unmistakable hunger in their eyes.

  “I told ya if we left this place for bait, we’d catch dinner, and lookee here,” Chris’s grin widened impossibly further. “We got ourselves an Evans kid.”

  Xavier felt a cold dread settle in his stomach.

  Time seemed to crystallize into perfect clarity. Xavier and Josiah exploded into action, the repetition of his father’s drills playing in his mind. ‘Run like hell and strike when and if the opportunity exists. Most importantly though…Run!’

  With clockwork precision, they each went in opposite directions. Xavier, who was faster than almost anyone in camp, went west towards the forest line. Josiah ran out the back door towards a storage unit area.

  “Escape Velocity!” Xavier shouted, feeling the familiar surge of mana through his system.

  Escape Velocity

  Draws deeply from personal mana reserves to grant vastly enhanced processing speed and reaction time. Massively increases evasion and speed.

  Rapid mana expenditure risks dangerous magical exhaustion.

  Users not conditioned for extreme speed may injure muscles or inertia impact collisions.

  “What’s most important in any fight?” His father’s voice echoed in his mind, a memory of countless training sessions.

  “Information,” Xavier whispered to himself as he ran towards the treeline. The word being the family’s response during their training exercises.

  “Correct. If you’re in a situation that needs you to escape, the moment that you split your opponent’s attention gives you an advantage. Steal their senses and control your battlefield,” his father would reiterate.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  X had no time to mourn Pablo, nor worry about Josiah. The opponent was too dangerous. He had to get back to safety and warn the others as soon as possible.

  He didn’t look behind him as he cleared the five-foot chain length fence with ease. He drew his crossbow and unsheathed his blade as he ran; the motions fluid, almost second nature after surviving this far. He had focused all his stats on speed and dexterity, giving him absolute confidence in his ability to escape.

  He bounded through the foliage, clearing branches and vines like they didn’t exist. He would make it back to the camp and call a hunt on The Hyenas once and for all.

  “Sniping Shot!” The call rang out from somewhere behind him.

  As he bounded through a thicket of vines, an arrow found the meat of Xavier’s left shoulder. A piercing pain shot through his left side, twisting him and throwing him against the forest floor.

  “I think I hit something, boss!” someone shouted from afar.

  Through the pain, Xavier made out Chris’s voice: “Grayson, go track him down while I hunt the other one! Listen to me carefully; Do not let him escape. If he does; you’ll be the one feeding the pack tonight, Understand!? I cannot afford to fuck up this deal.”

  Deal? What deal? The thought flashed through Xavier’s mind but was quickly overwhelmed by the burning pain in his shoulder. “Damnit was it laced with something? No time to worry about that.” he thought to himself.

  “Got it, boss. I’ll handle him and bring his head to you,” Grayson replied, his footsteps already crashing through the undergrowth.

  Xavier examined the massive arrow shaft buried in his shoulder, fighting the urge to cry out. He knew that under normal circumstances, pulling out the arrow would increase blood loss without a tourniquet. However, his father had made sure they each carried fashioned bandoliers crafted by William, containing emergency potions.

  Gritting his teeth, Xavier yanked out the jagged arrow. A hoarse yelp escaped his lips despite his efforts. The unintended sound caused a snap from within the trees nearby. Quickly, he uncorked a healing potion and raised it to his lips; silently thanking his sister’s new creation.

  He felt the first powdery berry taste of the healing concoction, flavored with scrounged Kool aid packets, when another arrow destroyed the bottle. His hopes shattered along with the glass that showered the ground near his feet. The precious liquid splashed uselessly across his chest and face.

  Through the trees emerged Grayson, a wiry man with their group’s trademark machete; his eyes gleaming with predatory satisfaction.

  “Got you now, pretty boy,” he sneered, advancing with his blade raised.

  Despite the pain, Xavier activated his skill again, mana rushing through his system. The world slowed, but instead of running away, he exploded forward with startling speed.

  Grayson barely had time to dodge as Xavier’s short sword flashed toward his face. He jerked back, the blade missing him by a hair’s breadth. A grin spread across his face at what he perceived as the boy’s last desperate attempt.

  “I never understand why someone aims for the face,” he mocked, raising his sword to finish the overextended Xavier. “Wait...what’s happening!?”

  Xavier, pretending to be overextended, didn’t have time to care what he was yelling about. The moment Grayson leaned in for his killing blow, Xavier pulled the trigger on his crossbow. He had it prearmed in his damaged left as he spun; sending a 22-inch solid iron bolt straight into the man’s stomach.

  Because his father never believed in waiting for proof of death from an enemy, Xavier had laced the bolt with a neurotoxin produced by Margo.

  Grayson clutched his stomach, watching the blood flow freely from his wound. His body convulsed violently, foam bubbling from his mouth. Before he could suffer much longer, Xavier spun from his position and decapitated the man with a clean stroke of his blade.

  He was no stranger to death in this world. None of them could have that comfort if they wanted to survive.

  Wiping his blade clean in the grass, Xavier tried to stem the bleeding from his shoulder. The loss of the healing potion was devastating. Without it, he needed to find water and shelter quickly. Suddenly he heard the sound of running water in the distance and hobbled towards it; hoping to at least clean the wound.

  As he walked, a soft melody drifted through the trees.

  “That’s weird,” he murmured, barely audible. “I didn’t remember there being a river here. Who’s singing that beautiful song?”

  He felt strangely sluggish, his thoughts becoming muddy. Glancing down, he noticed the bloodloss from his shoulder wound was worse than he’d thought. With each step, the world seemed to shift slightly, colors becoming too bright, shadows too deep.

  Wait, he recognized this voice. “Rose?” he whispered, his heart leaping.

  Rose Martinez had been more than just his girlfriend. In the hellscape after The Fall, she had been his anchor, his reason to keep fighting. Her death two years back had nearly broken him. They had just talked about having a wedding after the last wave; now he was alone.

  Xavier picked up speed, hobbling toward the soft song. As he neared the edge of the trees, he saw her standing by a riverbank, dressed in flowing white, her dark hair catching the last rays of sunlight. She was waving to him, smiling that smile that had always made his heart skip.

  “Rose! I missed you so much!” he called out, stumbling forward.

  As he approached the riverbank, she held up her hand in a halting motion.

  “Rose? What is it? Why can’t I come to you?” he asked, confusion and frustration warring in his voice. It was as if he were waist-deep in invisible mud, unable to reach her.

  She tilted her head to the side, as if listening to an unseen presence. When she turned back to Xavier, her warm caramel smile held a sadness that pierced his heart. In that moment, clarity returned.

  “I’m dying, aren’t I?” he asked softly.

  Lying on the riverbank, bleeding from his shoulder wound, Xavier labored over his last few breaths, far away from his remaining family and friends. The realization brought not fear, but a profound regret that he hadn’t heeded his father’s warnings more carefully.

  “I need you to remember something, my love,” Rose said, her voice ethereal yet urgent. “Points are still accumulating, and all contracts are still valid.” She seemed to look away, like she was listening to an unseen figure. “You are still being watched. Make sure the Archon knows this as soon as possible. His class is the key to the power Humanity needs to persist.”

  “What are you talking about? What is an Archon? I’m not going to make it out of here,” he said flatly. “I just want to spend the rest of time with you.”

  She smiled with those beautiful cheeks he had memorized in happier times and said, “Well, come see me tomorrow.”

  As she spoke those words, Xavier saw something shift in her expression. Her smile widened, too wide for a human face. In the fading light, her eyes seemed to change color, gleaming with a predatory yellow.

  "Rose?" he whispered, a new horror dawning as he realized what was happening.

  The creature wearing Rose's face lunged forward with impossible speed. The beautiful illusion shattered, revealing the true form of a Harpy; the same species that had killed the real Rose months before. Its razor-sharp talons reached for him as its beak gaped open, revealing rows of needle-like teeth.

  The last thing Xavier saw was Rose's face melting away into the nightmarish visage of the Harpy as it descended upon him, the beautiful siren song twisting into a triumphant screech. In his final moment, he couldn't tell where Rose ended and the monster began, their images superimposed in a horrifying amalgamation that seared itself into his dying consciousness.

  He blinked in shock and when his eyes opened...

  “It’s ok, son! I’ve got you. You’re safe,” said a familiar voice, pulling Xavier back to the present moment.

  He stared around at the family gathered in concern, disorientation and recognition warring on his face.

  “Dad, how are you here? Are…are we dead?”

  As the memories threatened to crush him, Xavier had to remind himself that this time would be different. Seeing Rose again would be everything to him, but it also held fear. The Harpy had done more damage with that vision than it realized.

  He firmly believed in Occam’s Razor. Sometimes the simplest and most direct method was the best. It was time for him and his father to have a discussion once he recovered. The Archon could only mean one person.

  But for now, Xavier needed to concentrate on this damn mana circulation exercise his dad had set up. He went to his room and sat in the lotus position. Understanding, Construction, Manifestation and Mental Image...

  While he sat with his eyes closed, struggling to maintain a calm mind despite the trauma of his memories, something strange happened. Unknown to him, his body seemed to flicker in and out of existence, phasing between reality and something else.

  Xavier’s hand clenched into a fist. He knew he needed to be stronger. No one would ever hunt him like prey again. He would master control of light itself; not just to illuminate, but to bend, to cut, to deceive if necessary. Whatever it took to protect his family this time.

  In the darkness behind his closed eyelids, for just a moment, he thought he could see Rose smiling at him from some distant shore, her eyes reflecting knowledge no living person should possess. She nodded once, as if approving his resolve, then vanished like morning mist.

  Xavier opened his eyes, a single tear tracking down his cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my love.” he whispered.