The smell of real, vacuum-sealed beef jerky was enough to make the survivors of the Atlanta Quarry camp weep. For weeks, they had been subsisting on foraged berries, slimy canned beans, and whatever unlucky squirrel Daryl managed to skewer.
Ren sat on a log near the fire, the orange glow dancing across his sharp features. He wasn't eating. His enhanced metabolism required calories, yes, but the Super Soldier Serum made his body incredibly efficient. He could run for days on a single meal if necessary.
Instead, he watched them.
Carl was tearing into a piece of jerky like a wolf pup. Dale was savoring his portion with eyes closed. Even Shane, who was sulking by his jeep, had accepted a piece, chewing it aggressively while glaring at Ren.
[System Notification]
[Observation Complete. Social Hierarchy Analysis: Low.]
[Current Leader: Shane Walsh (Unstable/Based on Fear).]
[Moral Compass: Dale Horvath.]
[Best Combatant (Non-Host): Daryl Dixon.]
Ren dismissed the screen. He leaned back, his shoulders stretching the black fabric of his shirt.
"So," Amy spoke up, breaking the silence. She was sitting closer to Ren than necessary, her knees almost brushing his. The Incubus Charisma was working overtime, pulling her into his orbit like a moth to a flame. "You said you came from the city? Is it... is it bad?"
Ren looked at her. In the show, Amy was the innocent one. The first tragedy that broke the group. He wouldn't let that happen.
"It's worse than you think," Ren lied smoothly. He didn't come from the city, but he knew the lore. "The military fell in the first forty-eight hours. The government is gone, Amy. There is no CDC cure coming. There is no rescue squad."
The camp went silent. Hope was a dangerous drug, and Ren was cutting off their supply. He needed them desperate. Desperate people followed the strongest leader.
"Don't say that," Lori Grimes interjected, her voice shaking. She held Carl close. "My husband... Rick... he's in the hospital. He's going to come back."
Ren looked at Lori. She was a controversial figure in the fandom, but right now, she was just a scared mother.
"Maybe," Ren allowed, offering a sliver of kindness to keep her from snapping. "But waiting for a ghost won't save you from the monsters in the woods. You need to be ready to fight."
He stood up, the movement fluid and commanding. "Which brings me to my point. Your perimeter is a joke."
Shane pushed off the jeep, marching into the firelight. "Now hold on a minute, Hollywood. I set that perimeter. We have trip lines. We have watches."
Ren chuckled, a low sound that grated on Shane's nerves. "You have strings with tin cans that a stiff breeze could set off. You have blind spots on the north ridge where the terrain dips. And you're burning pine," Ren pointed to the fire. "Smells great, but the smoke is thick. You're broadcasting your location."
"And what do you suggest?" Shane challenged, stepping into Ren's personal space. He was trying to use his cop stature to intimidate, but he had to look up to meet Ren's eyes.
Ren didn't blink. His blue eyes seemed to glow faintly. "We move the latrines away from the water source. We clear the brush on the north ridge to create a kill zone. And we stop using guns unless absolutely necessary. Sound draws them."
He turned to Daryl. "Daryl, tomorrow morning, you and I are clearing the ridge. I need someone who actually knows how to use a blade."
Daryl, who was whittling a stick in the shadows, looked up. He gave a curt nod. "Fine by me."
Shane looked around. He saw the nods of agreement from Dale, from Andrea, even from Glenn. He was losing them. The realization hit him like a physical blow.
"Fine," Shane spat. "Do what you want. But if you draw a herd down on us, it's on you."
Shane stormed off toward his tent.
Ren watched him go.
[Passive Skill Triggered: Limit Breaker]
[Observation and Tactical Analysis have increased Intelligence by +1.]
[Social Dominance established over Group (Minor). +50 System Points.]
"I'll take the first watch," Ren announced. He looked at Amy. "Want to keep me company?"
Amy's face turned a brilliant shade of red. "I... uh, sure. I can do that."
POV: Amy
Amy felt lightheaded. It wasn't just the hunger or the fear anymore. It was him.
Sitting next to Ren on top of the RV, looking out into the dark forest, she felt safer than she had in weeks. He was holding a pair of binoculars—high-tech ones he had pulled from his bag—scanning the tree line.
"You're shaking," Ren said softly. He didn't look at her, but he shifted his body to block the wind.
"I'm just cold," Amy lied. She wasn't cold. She was nervous. Being this close to him felt electric. He smelled like ozone and fresh rain, not the sweat and grime that covered everyone else. "Do you really think we can survive this? The walkers... they're everywhere."
Ren lowered the binoculars and turned to her. In the moonlight, his features looked almost statue-like.
"I don't think, Amy. I know." He reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm. "I won't let anything happen to you. You have my word."
Amy's breath hitched. "Why? You don't even know me."
"I know enough," Ren replied. "You're kind. That's a rare currency in this world. It deserves to be protected."
It was a line. A cheesy, smooth line that Ren had probably read in a dozen web novels. But combined with Incubus Charisma, it hit Amy with the force of a freight train.
She leaned in, her instincts screaming at her to get closer to this source of strength. "Thank you, Ren."
"Get some sleep, Amy," he whispered, pulling back slightly. "Big day tomorrow. I'm going to teach you how to use a knife."
"A knife?" She blinked.
"Guns run out of bullets," Ren said, tapping the hilt of a combat knife strapped to his thigh. "Blades don't need reloading. If you want to live, you need to be dangerous."
Amy nodded, determination filling her eyes. "Okay. Teach me."
The Next Morning
The sun hadn't even crested the horizon when Ren began his workout.
He had stripped off his shirt, revealing the sculptured perfection of his torso. The Advanced Super Soldier Serum had given him a physique that was anatomically perfect—every muscle group defined, veins pumping like hydraulic lines.
He was doing handstand pushups. On one finger.
[Strength +0.1]
[Strength +0.1]
[Limit Breaker Active: Muscle density increasing.]
The camp was waking up slowly. The first person to emerge was Carol Peletier, preparing to start the laundry. She stopped dead in her tracks, holding a basket of dirty clothes, staring at the man defying gravity in the center of the camp.
Then came Andrea and Amy. They stopped too.
Ren finished his set and flipped onto his feet with the grace of a cat. He wasn't even winded. He wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead and saw his audience.
"Good morning, ladies," he grinned.
Andrea, usually the cynical civil rights lawyer, found herself staring at his abs before snapping her eyes up to his face. "Show off," she muttered, though there was no heat in it.
"Preparation," Ren corrected. He pulled his shirt back on, hiding the goods. "Breakfast in ten. Then we work."
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane watched from the shadows of the tree line. He had his shotgun gripped so tight his knuckles were white.
He hated Ren. He hated the way he walked, the way he talked, and the way Lori had looked at him this morning. Shane had spent weeks keeping this group alive. He was the one who made the hard calls. He was the one sleeping with Lori while Rick was dead.
And now this... this stranger walks in and takes over?
"He's dangerous," Shane muttered to himself. "Flashy. Reckless."
But deep down, Shane knew it wasn't recklessness. He had seen the way Ren moved yesterday with Daryl. The guy was a weapon. And that terrified Shane more than the walkers did. Because if Ren decided he wanted Lori... or the leadership... there wasn't a damn thing Shane could do to stop him physically.
"I need to watch him," Shane decided. "Wait for him to slip up. Everyone slips up."
The Training Session
By noon, the camp had transformed.
Ren didn't just give orders; he demonstrated. He took Glenn and T-Dog to the north ridge and showed them how to clear the sightlines. He showed Dale how to reinforce the RV's windows with scrap metal found in the quarry.
But the main event was the combat training.
He gathered the women—Andrea, Amy, Carol, and Jacqui. In the show, the men protected the women (mostly). Ren wasn't having that sexist inefficiency. Everyone fought.
"The skull is softest at the temple and the eye socket," Ren instructed, holding a combat knife (dull training version). "You don't slash at a walker. You stab. Hard. Committed."
He grabbed a melon they had found in a cooler. "Pretend this is a head."
He handed the knife to Carol. The older woman looked terrified. She glanced toward her tent, where Ed was nursing his shattered knee, high on painkillers.
"I... I can't," Carol whispered.
Ren stepped closer to her. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "You can, Carol. You're stronger than you think. And if you learn this... no one can ever hurt you again. Not the dead. And not the living."
Carol's eyes widened. She knew exactly who he was talking about. She looked at the knife, then at the melon.
She stabbed it. Weakly.
"Again," Ren commanded. "Put your weight behind it."
She stabbed again. Harder.
"Again!"
By the fifth strike, Carol was breathing hard, a fierce light in her eyes. She had decimated the melon.
"Good," Ren nodded. He looked at the group. "The walkers don't care if you're a man or a woman. They just care if you're meat. Don't be meat."
"Hey! Ren!"
Daryl's voice came from the woods. He jogged into the clearing, looking winded. Daryl Dixon never looked winded.
Ren turned instantly. "Report."
"Tracks," Daryl panted. "Fresh ones. But not walkers. People. Saw a scout near the highway."
Ren's eyes narrowed. In the canon timeline, there were no bandits this early. But the Vatos gang was in Atlanta. Maybe they were expanding? Or maybe his presence had caused a butterfly effect.
[Side Quest Generated: The First Threat]
[Description: A group of scavengers has spotted your camp. They are hostile. Dealing with them will solidify your position as the Protector.]
[Reward: 1x Talent Buy Card (fragment), Reputation Max with Daryl Dixon.]
Ren smiled. A smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a predator who just found prey.
"Shane, get the shotgun," Ren ordered, his voice cutting across the camp like a whip crack. "Daryl, grab your crossbow. Glenn, get the kids in the RV and lock the door."
"What's going on?" Shane demanded, running over.
"Guests," Ren said, cracking his knuckles. "We're going to say hello."
"I'm coming too," Andrea said, stepping forward with a resolute look.
Ren looked at her. She was raw, untrained, but she had the spirit. In the show, she became a sharpshooter. He could use that.
"Stay close to me," Ren said. "Do exactly what I say."
He turned to the forest. The Grandmaster of Warfare talent was flooding his brain with tactical overlays. He could calculate wind speed, likely approach vectors, and ambush points instantly.
"System," he thought. "Activate Adrenaline Surge."
Ren didn't have an Adrenaline skill, but his body responded to his will. His heart rate slowed. His focus sharpened to a razor's edge.
"Let's move," Ren commanded.
He took the lead, moving into the forest with a silence that was unnatural for a man of his size. Daryl followed, looking at Ren with a newfound respect. Shane trailed behind, grumbling but following.
They walked for ten minutes until Ren held up a fist. Stop.
He pointed to a clearing ahead. Three men were crouching by a dead deer, arguing. They held pistols loosely. They wore ragged clothes, but their intent was clear.
"We take what we can," one of the men laughed. "Saw smoke. Probably got food. Maybe women."
Daryl stiffened.
Ren looked at Shane. "You wanted to protect the camp, Shane? Here's your chance. You take the left. Daryl, right."
"And you?" Shane whispered aggressively.
Ren stood up from the brush, walking out into the open with his hands in his pockets.
"I'll be the distraction."
[Incubus Charisma: Intimidation Mode Active.]
"Gentlemen," Ren called out.
The three scavengers spun around, guns raising.
"Who the hell are you?" the leader shouted.
Ren kept walking. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't flinch at the barrels pointed at his chest.
"I'm the guy giving you a choice," Ren said calmly. "Drop the guns and run back to whatever hole you crawled out of. Or stay here and become fertilizer."
The scavengers laughed. "Get a load of this guy. fertilizer? There's three of us, pretty boy."
"Three," Ren agreed. He took one more step. "That's an unlucky number."
BANG.
One of the scavengers fired.
Ren moved.
To the human eye, he simply blurred. To Ren, the bullet was moving through molasses. He tilted his head to the left. The bullet buzzed past his ear like an angry hornet.
[Dodge Successful.]
Before the scavenger could blink, Ren was there. He didn't use a knife. He used a fist. A straight jab to the solar plexus.
The scavenger folded, vomiting instantly as his diaphragm paralyzed.
Ren spun, grabbing the wrist of the second man. Snap. The gun fell. Ren swept his leg, sending the man crashing to the ground, then stomped on his chest. Ribs shattered.
The third man, the leader, backed up, eyes wide with horror. "What... what are you?"
Daryl stepped out of the bushes, crossbow aimed at the leader's head. Shane stepped out from the other side, shotgun pump-action clacking loudly.
Ren straightened his shirt. He hadn't even broken a sweat.
"I told you," Ren said, his voice cold and echoing in the silent forest. "I'm the upgrade."
He looked at Shane. "Tie them up. We need to interrogate them before the herd comes."
Ren looked at the sky. The sun was setting. Two days left until the attack. But the camp wasn't looking at him like a stranger anymore.
They were looking at him like a King.
[Quest Update: Establish Dominance (90%)]
[Renown Increased: The Group now views you as the Primary Combatant.]
Ren turned back to the camp. Step one complete. Now, to prepare for the slaughter.