Below, the group was moving out. Garret finally rose, his joints aching. He slung the Chixiao sword across his back and descended without a sound. When his boots hit the ground, the others turned. None of them spoke. They didn't have to. His expression told them everything.
Eira stepped forward, her eyes sharp and unreadable.
"The girls said he's somewhere near the old administration block," she said. "
Garret's jaw tightened.
The administrative block loomed ahead, its upper floors burned black and hollowed out. The late sun slanted through shattered windows, casting fractured bars of gold and crimson across the walls. They moved silently through the corridor, boots sinking into ash and broken glass. Eira raised her hand, signaling them to stop.
"There." She whispered.
At the end of the hall, the light from a fire flickered through an open doorway. Shadows danced across the walls, several figures gathered around what looked like a crude throne of scavenged furniture.
Garret's eyes narrowed. His hand rested loosely on the hilt of his sword. Eira gave a sharp nod. The room opened up into what had once been the student lounge. Now it was something else, a den of filth and arrogance.
In the center sat a tall, broad-shouldered man. His skin was tanned and scarred, his shirt open, to reveal a chest lined with half-faded tattoos. His hair was slicked back, and his eyes gleamed with that particular brand of confidence that only came from unchecked cruelty.
Behind him stood a dozen others, survivors, though barely. Their faces were hollow, their clothes ragged, their eyes dull with exhaustion and hunger. And at his sides, kneeling on the floor like ornaments, were three women their expressions blank, empty. One flinched when the man shifted in his chair.
Garret stopped just past the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room once. Then it stopped on the women, on the starved men and then on the self-proclaimed king seated above them all.
He said nothing.
Eira, however, took a step forward. Her voice was low, sharp. "You're the one they spoke of?"
The man turned lazily, smirking. "And who's asking? Another stray who wants a place in my court?" His eyes raked over her shamelessly. "You'll do nicely, though. Bit cold for my taste, but that can be fixed."
Kael's hand went to his bow instantly, knuckles whitening around the grip.
"Watch your mouth."
The man's smirk widened. "Ah, the jealous type. Cute." He gestured toward the women kneeling beside him. "See that? Obedience. That's what keeps people alive now."
One of the women's shoulders trembled. Her eyes darted briefly toward Eira, a flicker of hope.
Eira's jaw tightened. "You've been starving the ones who won't obey," she said quietly.
"You're worse than the monsters outside."
The man rose slowly to his feet. He was tall almost as tall as Garret, but broader, built like a wall of muscle. He picked up a spear and leaned it casually against his shoulder.
"Better a king among ruins than a corpse in the dirt." His eyes slid toward Garret
"And what's your deal, quiet one?
He had been feeling quite apprehensive of his silent figure. Garret gave him a feeling that he wouldn't last a second while fighting him. He couldn't accept someone was stronger than him in the campus, he had already marked it as his territory.
Garret's eyes flicked toward him once, expressionless. "Where is she?"
The man blinked. "What?"
"My sister," Garret said. "Eva. Did you hear about her?"
For a moment, confusion crossed the man's face. Then amusement. "Oh, so that's what this is. A family man." He chuckled lowly. "Can't say I know the name. I've had a lot of guests come through here. Some leave, most stay."
He tilted his head, watching Garret closely.
"Tell you what. Bring me that Ice queen of yours and maybe I'll help you remember."
Eira's hand went to her sword before she even realized it. The air around her grew colder, thin flakes of frost spiraling from her fingertips. Kael took half a step forward, bowstring tightening.
Garret didn't move. He just stared.
Her hand snapped out, frost blooming from her palm like an explosion of glass. Shards of ice shot across the room toward him. The man reacted on instinct wind surged around him in a sudden violent gust, deflecting the shards midair. They shattered harmlessly against the walls.
The smirk returned, wider now. "You also got flashy powers," he said with a sneer. "I've killed plenty."
Kael's arrow was already in flight before the man finished speaking. It hissed through the air, aimed perfectly between his eyes — but at the last instant, the wind shifted again. The arrow twisted away, snapping against the far wall.
"Shit," Kael cursed, nocking another.
The bastard's laughter boomed. "You'll have to do better than that, boy!"
Eira lunged again, her eyes narrowing. Her breath came out in misty bursts as she swept her sword in an arc, the motion birthing a crescent blade of ice that howled toward him. He answered with a thrust of his arm; the air shimmered, compressed, and exploded outward. The collision cracked the floor and sent both attacks spiraling apart.
Dust filled the room.
Kael fired again. One, two, three arrows in rapid succession. Each one twisted away by miniature whirlwinds before they reached their mark.
"Stop shooting unless you can aim!" Darrius barked.
Eira's eyes flashed with fury. Her next attack was wild, she conjured a storm of ice daggers that filled the air like a blizzard. The man grinned and swept both hands outward. A shockwave of wind blasted through the room, scattering the shards like snow in a gale.
Marcus and Darrius seized the opening.
Marcus swung his hammer downward, only for the air to explode between them. The shockwave flung him backward, the ground fracturing beneath the impact. Darrius managed to close in with his axe, but each swing was met with invisible resistance gusts twisting his strikes off course, throwing him off balance. The man stepped back, unscathed.
"Pathetic." He sneered
Eira darted forward, her boots sliding over frost as she summoned another barrage of icy spears. Kael moved in tandem this time, loosing arrows from the side, trying to pressure the bastard from two angles.
It didn't work.