"Bot, can you explain why people are mutating? Can they be demutated or something? And why am I cool? Are there more like me?"
[THE INFUSION OF MAGIKE INTO GAIA IS THE REASON FOR THE GENOMIC CHANGES. REVERSAL IS IMPOSSIBLE AT THE CURRENT STAGE. MAGIKE IS THE SECOND STRONGEST SOURCE OF ENERGY AFTER ICHOR. THE WEAK AND VULNERABLE ARE UNABLE TO RESIST SUCH REMARKABLE ENERGY.]
"You hear that, Ari? You fucked up, brother. I always told you there's so much more to life than... forget it."
Zaire rubbed his face in anguish.
Looking at Ari, who was rested against a wall, his eyes welled up again.
"Ah, fuck..."
Taking a couple of deep breaths, Zaire calmed himself.
Slapping both his cheeks hard—three times—he continued,
"What's the ratio of survivors compared to the mutated? And also, also, Ari did revert, right? You said it was impossible, but he literally did."
[THE RATIO CANNOT BE DETERMINED WITH CERTAINTY. BUT CHILDREN AND ELDERS, IN MOST CIRCUMSTANCES, CANNOT BEAR MAGIKE. OF THE 60% OF ADULTS, MOST ARE VICTIMS OF VARIOUS VICES. THUS, OVERALL, THE ESTIMATED SURVIVOR RATE IS APPROXIMATELY 1:10.]
[THE REASON FOR YOUR COMPANION'S MOMENTARY MENTAL CLARITY REMAINS UNDETERMINED.]
Zaire closed his eyes. He'd heard things he desperately wanted to unhear.
His grandmother was probably dead.
No—not only her. He had many cousins and relatives who were children or elders.
Oh, fuck...
Zaire started to feel nauseous. His head spun; his footing trembled.
The gravity of this apocalypse was something he knew he couldn't deal with—and also something he didn't know if he ever could deal with.
But he has to move on. He absolutely has to, to ensure his parents' well-being.
Zaire clenched his fists tight, his nails dug deep into his palms.
The pain finally made his eyes gleam in resolve.
He knew his next mission:
Rush home.
*****
Zaire started scanning for vehicles.
He was a bad driver. Put on some music, and he would one hundred percent crank the volume to max.
A crash would be all but certain.
Although all his crashes had been minor fender-benders, they were still headaches.
He was well aware of this bad habit, and thus avoided driving like the plague.
But now, he could drive.
He could crash however he wanted. He could crash without restraint.
Zaire chuckled to himself as he approached the wall of a nearby house.
"Bot, you said 1 out of every 10 people survive. So there are bound to be people alive in the vicinity, right?"
[YES, BUT YOU MUST ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT MANY WILL BE KILLED BY THE MUTATED BEASTS.]
"Mmhmm. Still, you know... There has to be at least one alive person nearby, right?"
[I CLARIFIED EARLIER THAT MY RATIO IS AN APPROXIMATION.]
"Cool..."
After brief observation and deliberate investigation, Zaire found a motorcycle nearby.
He quickly moved it next to the compound wall and used the bike to prop himself up, climbing over to the other side.
He was greeted with gore.
A rocking chair rocked subtly in the wind—blood lathered over it, organs splattered on either side.
Probably some unlucky old fella.
Zaire felt weak and couldn't bear to look at the gruesome scene.
It's too much.
Nonetheless, he persevered and rejected his inner turmoil.
[PASSIVE SKILL: PERSEVERANCE HAS LEVELED UP. IT IS NOW: LEVEL THREE.]
"AHHHHH, FUCKKKKK..."
Zaire screamed in frustration and quickly charged into the house.
Oh, bless his heart. He tried his best to ignore the terrible surroundings.
*****
The house was damp and smelled of copper, iron, and sulfur.
Zaire's eyes twitched. He turned vigilant. Luckily, daylight was on his side.
He perked up his ears and moved his eyes rapidly, scanning every corner.
Dhum. Dhum. Dhum—
Heavy, irregular blows came from the floor directly above.
Zaire gulped.
That was probably the bedroom.
And that was probably where the car keys were.
"Fuck."
With quick yet silent steps, Zaire made his way to the first floor.
And yep—a mutated man-beast was banging on a closed door - the biggest one.
Probably the master bedroom.
Inhaling a long breath, Zaire held it.
The beast mindlessly pounded on the door. Its eyes were glazed, its gaze hollow.
Tiptoeing quietly behind it, Zaire positioned himself.
What followed happened in an instant.
Zaire's arms locked around the beast in a cable grip—wrapping it up.
He squatted slightly, then turned his core, lifting the beast and smashing its head into the ground as he fell backward.
He executed a suplex---the German one.
Clerrkk—
Zaire put everything into that suplex—no restraint, full intention to mash the beast's head in.
And collapse the cranium it did.
Blood, brains, and other matter leaked out.
Zaire shivered and closed his eyes.
He didn't puke. And he hated that he didn't feel as sick as he knew he should.
*****
Zaire moved the body aside and sat slumped, waiting.
Ten minutes. Then he'd have enough Magike for a Terra Bullet.
His plan: blow the latch off with his skill.
But eight minutes later, something unexpected happened.
Click.
The latch unlocked. The door opened... from the inside.
"Michael..."
The voice was that of a woman—a whisper, hoarse and terrified.
Zaire felt relief wash over him.
Another human? Hallelujah!