Fay lunged at the nearest of the creatures, spear in hand. The weapon was just under two meters long—heavy enough to kill, yet light enough for him to wield with speed and precision.
He used the creature's height to his advantage, jumping up and driving the point of the spear into its chest, right where the heart should be. He didn't enjoy killing, but he had long since learned how. The three scars on Fay's body were proof of that hard-earned lesson.
The capybara let out a shriek before collapsing, the sound alerting the other two. They turned immediately, abandoning the tailless rat that had been their prey. The rodent twitched on the ground, riddled with bite marks, but Fay had no time to worry about lost lunch.
He yanked his spear free and lunged at the second capybara, aiming for its face. The beast flinched just in time, and the tip only grazed its cheek, leaving a shallow cut.
Now both of the remaining creatures stared him down, their eyes full of hunger and fury. He needed to bring one down quickly—buy himself some breathing room—but it wouldn't be as easy as the first. These two were ready to fight, and they had already chosen their next meal.
Fay took a step back, heart racing. He needed an advantage—something, anything. The old park's ruined landscape offered one: the jungle gym. Rusted, but still standing.
He turned and ran for it, using his spear like a crutch to boost himself up. Survival had sharpened his instincts—and his body. The boy was athletic where it counted.
The beasts charged after him, but the structure's metal bars proved too tricky. Their hoof-like feet scraped uselessly against the ladder. Snarling in frustration, they however entered the cage and used their hind legs to raise themselves beneath him, snapping at his feet.
Fay used the high ground to his advantage, yanking his spear free and jabbing down at the mutated capybaras. He focused on the larger one—it was easier to hit and posed the bigger threat. If he could take it down, the last one would be easier to deal with.
Three solid strikes disfigured the beast's face. It howled in pain, trying to pull back, but it was already too late. Fay drove the spear deep into its chest, aiming for the same spot he had struck the first one.
The spear landed true—but now it was stuck.
Wrenching it free would take precious seconds he didn't have. And the last capybara, enraged by the death of its companion, wasn't going to wait.
Fay glanced around desperately. He needed another weapon—something sharp or heavy—but the area around the jungle gym offered little: a few broken branches, scattered rocks, and the rusted remains of playground structures. Nothing lethal.
He made a decision.
Leaping down from the frame, he ran. The jungle gym would slow the beast for a few seconds at least. He sprinted toward the nearby housing district, hoping to find something—anything—he could use to finish the job.
Behind him, he heard the pounding of hooved feet. The last capybara was giving chase, only a few meters behind.
He couldn't let it howl or alert others. It had to die—now.
Spotting a collapsed house with its front door half torn off, Fay dashed inside. The interior was trashed, but it was promising. Wreckage meant salvageable weapons.
He rushed through a narrow corridor, one path blocked by rubble, the other leading to a crumbling staircase. At the base, he spotted shattered beams and broken handrails. Grabbing a pair of jagged wooden stakes, he slammed one into the floor to test it. Solid enough.
The beast was nearly on him—three meters, maybe less.
But Fay wasn't afraid anymore. He gripped the stakes in both hands, eyes locked on the hallway.
He had the high ground.
Fay's only problem now was that there was nowhere left to run. Going deeper into the house was impossible. It would come down to this: either he killed the beast, or it killed him.
He planted one of the meter-long wooden stakes in front of him to hold the rodent back. In his dominant hand—the right—he gripped the other like a spear.
With a sharp breath, he jerked his left arm back and hurled the stake.
It flew straight, striking the creature's shoulder. But unlike his metal spear, it didn't pierce deeply. The wound only enraged the capybara further. It shrieked and charged up the stairs, fury burning in its eyes.
Sweat beaded on Fay's brow. This was it—his last chance. One final gambit.
He didn't hesitate.
As the beast neared, he leaped from the stairs, landing on its broad back. In one swift, desperate motion, he drove the remaining stake into the creature's skull.
It wailed in pain, thrashing violently.
Fay didn't stay to ride it down. He jumped again, grabbing hold of the staircase edge just in time to avoid being dragged into the chaos.
Dangling by his fingertips, he listened—counting the seconds as his arms trembled.
Below him, the capybara flailed, slowed, and finally stilled. Its breathing grew ragged… and then stopped altogether.
Only silence remained. Fay held on a few moments longer, arms trembling, just to be sure the creature wasn't playing dead.
Then he dropped down.
He landed squarely on the beast's back—it didn't even flinch.
"Food… food at last…" he whispered under his breath.
But he didn't stay to carve into the carcass. His thoughts immediately turned to his sister.
Without wasting another second, he sprinted out of the ruined house and back toward the park, running faster now than he had when the beasts were chasing him. She was alone—too close to danger. He had to make sure she was safe.
Only when he spotted a familiar yellow hat in the distance did he slow down, approaching cautiously. His eyes darted in every direction, scanning for any sign of danger.
"Sorry I took so long, but at least we have food now!" Fay went closer to his sister, the girl was crouched while looking at a few flowers that struggled to grow, they seemed to try to bite her finger as she played with them.