The explosion continued to reverberate through the street, its shockwave rattling the windows and shaking the very foundations of the buildings. Karma stood still, leaning against the cracked doorframe of the café, eyes fixed on the source of the blast. He felt the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, but he forced himself to remain calm.
Observe first. Think later.
It was a natural instinct for Karma. He was always more of a thinker than a reactor, methodical in his approach to chaos. His mind raced, trying to process everything he had just witnessed. The explosion had come from somewhere deep within the district, lighting up the sky and scattering the undead horde. But what piqued his interest even more was the figure at the center of it all—the one responsible for the blast.
Inside the café, chaos broke out.
A woman near the counter screamed, knocking over chairs as she scrambled for cover. A man dropped a tray of shattered dishes, the clatter lost beneath the rising noise of terror. Somewhere near the kitchen, a baby wailed, its cries slicing through the tension like a blade. People shoved past each other, desperate to find exits, their fear as tangible as the dust in the air.
The man—or whatever he was—stood amidst the wreckage, the remnants of a burst of divine energy rippling from him like a shockwave. His arms were raised, crackling with power as he unleashed another series of explosions into the undead. The bodies of the creatures disintegrated into ash with each burst, their forms reduced to nothingness in mere seconds.
Karma watched in silence, eyes narrowed, his mind dissecting every movement.
How is he not running out of energy?
It was the logical question, the one that immediately struck him. Karma, more than anyone, knew the limits of divine power. He had felt the exhaustion from his fight with Araphé, the burning need to rest, to recharge. His energy was finite, and without some kind of means to replenish it, he would have burned out by now.
But this man… he wasn't showing any sign of slowing down. Each blast was as powerful as the last, his movements efficient and precise, as if he had an endless supply of energy.
Could he be using it differently? Or… is there something I don't know?
A group of panicked survivors bolted past the café window, one of them tripping and crashing into the pavement, scraping their hands bloody in their rush to get away. Another person—an older man—collapsed against the glass, pounding on it desperately with both fists, his mouth moving in a silent plea for help. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, filled with the raw terror of someone realizing they might die.
Karma shook his head. No. He couldn't afford to think like that.
Focus. It doesn't matter how he's doing it. It's not my fight.
But even with that thought, Karma couldn't stop himself from observing. The man's control over his power was something to be admired, something that might hold a lesson. However, Karma wasn't the type to jump to conclusions.
He wasn't arrogant enough to assume he knew all the answers. Maybe there was something about this new world he hadn't grasped yet. Something he was missing.
Maybe I'm just not seeing it.
He glanced back at the horde, which had stopped briefly, still drawn to the figure but too numerous to ignore for long. Karma's chest tightened. He didn't have the energy for another fight, not like this. He needed a break, a way to recover his strength—something Muse had failed to explain.
Could there be a way to restore his divine energy? Was there something he wasn't told? A method, a rule to this power he hadn't learned yet?
I don't know.
He couldn't make assumptions about the unknown, not yet. His mind needed time to process everything—time he didn't have. The undead were still out there, closing in.
More screams echoed down the street as a small group of survivors ran by, pursued by a handful of straggling undead. One woman stumbled, her ankle twisting, and she was almost overtaken before another grabbed her and dragged her away, leaving behind a trail of desperate cries.
Karma sighed, running a hand through his hair. Whatever the answer was, he didn't have it now. But he would find it.
Turning to the girl in the corner of the café, her eyes wide with fear, Karma gave her a quick, purposeful nod.
"We need to move," he said, his voice steady but firm. "Now."
She hesitated for a moment, frozen in terror as the noise of the crowd and the moaning of the undead grew louder, but then she nodded back, still trembling.
Karma led her through the back door, stepping over the broken chairs and spilled food, his thoughts still on the strange figure outside and the energy he seemed to have in endless supply.
I'll figure it out later.
For now, survival came first. The undead were coming. And he needed to be ready.