The two men spent several minutes going through the store, moving from shelf to shelf with the careless familiarity of people who had done this before. One picked up a sealed food pack, squeezed it, checked the price, and tossed it back hard enough to disturb the rest. The second opened a dented cupboard beneath the shelf without asking the manager for permission.
The manager watched from behind the counter. It did not complain, nor did it seem offended. Its eyes merely followed every item they touched while its hands remained folded before it.
The third man never entered.
He stood beneath the pale light outside, the toes of his shoes less than a handspan from the metal strip dividing the store from the street. One step would have carried him across. Instead, he remained there with his arms at his sides and his head tilted slightly forward.
Kael leaned against the wall and watched him from the corner of his eye. The red dot on his minimap had stopped at the entrance.
That could have been a coincidence, but Kael had stopped trusting those shortly after almost dying. The shop belonged to a manager, and managers belonged to the Tower. Perhaps the building had rules of its own. Hostile creatures might be unable to enter, or they might simply know better than to try. Either possibility made the doorway more interesting than anything on the shelves.
Kael shifted his weight as if he were getting comfortable, giving himself a clearer angle on the man outside. The tracksuits of the two shoppers moved with every breath. The third man's clothes did not.
No breath. No restless adjustment of the feet. None of the small movements people made even when they were trying to remain still. Whatever stood outside had learned the shape of a man without learning all the habits that came with it.
The stranger's companions did not appear concerned. They turned their backs on him freely, argued over prices, and spoke to one another without checking whether he was still there. Either they knew what he was and had brought him deliberately, or they had failed to notice that the person travelling with them was not a person at all.
Kael studied the two more carefully. They did not behave like newcomers. Neither wasted time staring at the menu or asking what the Cores were worth. They ignored equipment beyond their means and checked only what they could afford. From the condition of their tracksuits and the old stains on their weapons, they had probably climbed well beyond the early floors before dying. The teens, perhaps. Maybe higher.
That was useful. Kael needed information, and experienced climbers were more likely to have it than the manager, who seemed determined to answer every question in the least helpful way possible. Unfortunately, experience did not guarantee perception.
One of the men stepped close enough to the entrance to brush shoulders with the silent figure. Neither reacted. The man returned to the shelves, and the thing resumed waiting as if nothing had happened.
So they probably did not know.
Kael decided against warning them. Announcing that their companion appeared as an enemy on his minimap would reveal too much about his own abilities. Attacking inside the shop might also break a rule he did not understand. He had already learned what happened when people treated the Tower's rules as suggestions. For now, watching was safer.
The two humans were rude and far too comfortable threatening strangers, but Kael could handle them if necessary. They smelled of sweat, dust, and dried blood. Their hands moved naturally, their eyes wandered, and irritation crossed their faces whenever they found something too expensive. Human problems were familiar problems. More importantly, both had realized what he could do with the hammer.
That did not make him safe, but it gave them a reason to think before trying anything stupid.
The creature was different. Kael did not know how strong it was, what it wanted, or whether the men beside it were prey, bait, or camouflage. Until he learned more, he intended to keep the counter and doorway within reach. If trouble started, he could put the shelves between himself and the humans, then discover whether the manager's presence was protection or merely another problem.
The burly man finally abandoned his search and returned to the counter. His companion joined him a moment later. Each placed several Cores down, and the manager dragged them closer with one long finger.
Both men chose Strength.
The change was subtle, but Kael knew what to look for. The burly man's shoulders tightened beneath his tracksuit, then settled into a slightly different position. His companion flexed his fingers one at a time before closing them into a fist.
Neither appeared surprised. The burly one only grinned and rolled his neck, while the other lifted his weapon to test its weight.
Their choice told Kael more than the display. They were spending the same currency required to leave the floor, which meant they either possessed more Cores elsewhere or expected to earn enough before attempting the exit. Whatever camp they intended to take him to was likely established and confident enough to hunt regularly.
That made following them more valuable. It also made them more dangerous.
Kael remembered the change in his own body after purchasing Strength. The sledgehammer had not truly become lighter, but it had stopped fighting him with every movement. He understood why someone would spend precious Cores for that relief. Here, strength was time bought during a fight, distance gained during an escape, and the difference between breaking a skull and merely making its owner angry.
"Let's go now," the burly one of them said.
His voice carried through the quiet store. The manager's head tilted a fraction, though its expression did not change. Kael could not tell whether it was listening to the man or to the silent thing outside.
The burly man turned toward him. "Kael, right? Follow us. We'll lead you to camp where you can talk to the boss," he said.
Kael nodded and pushed away from the wall. He kept his expression neutral. Looking too eager would make him seem easy to recruit. Looking frightened would make him seem easy to rob. He preferred to look interested enough to follow and troublesome enough to leave alone.
The two men walked out first. Both crossed the threshold without hesitation. The voiceless third man turned the moment they passed and fell into step behind them, as if someone had pulled an invisible cord attached to his chest.
Kael followed last.
Cold air pressed against his face outside, carrying dust, stale smoke, and the bitter trace of old fires. Above the ruined city, the sky remained dull and red, its weak light making the middle of the day resemble a long, sickly evening. Broken windows reflected the color from both sides of the street.
Something screamed in the distance.
The sound rose between the buildings and ended with a wet abruptness Kael did not care to investigate. Neither human reacted. The silent one did, though only slightly. Its head turned toward the noise before returning to the path.
Kael had spent his first day believing monsters did not roam while there was light. That belief had been convenient, and convenience was a poor substitute for proof. The red dot walking ahead of him proved daylight did not make the city safe. It only changed which dangers were willing to show themselves.
He left several paces between himself and the group. The men had invited him to their camp, but an invitation meant little in a place where killing someone could put valuable Cores in your hands. He watched their shoulders, their weapons, and the silent man's mark on the minimap. If any of them turned too quickly, he wanted enough room to swing.
The street offered several exits. A shattered storefront stood to his left, its entrance wide enough to dive through without slowing. On the right, an overturned vehicle blocked half an alley but left room for one person to squeeze past. Neither route was good. Both were better than allowing three strangers to surround him in the open.
For now, he would follow them and meet their boss. He needed information more than comfort, and the camp might answer questions the manager would not.
Until then, he kept the hammer ready and his distance wider than friendship required.