The scavengers spread out like wolves circling prey, their boots crunching against broken glass and ash. My grip on the crowbar slicked with sweat, my chest burning with each breath. My side still bled from the Aberration's claw, pain lancing every time I shifted. I didn't let them see it. If they caught weakness, it was over.
The leader grinned, his jagged teeth catching in the pale light. He carried a rusted machete, its blade dark with old stains. "We'll take the girl. You can piss off, pretty boy."
Lysander's gaze didn't waver. His hand tightened on his blade's hilt, his posture still irritatingly relaxed. "Walk away." His voice was low, even, more dangerous than any threat screamed in rage.
The leader laughed, his men joining in, the sound harsh in the mist. "You think you can take us? Four on two?" His eyes slid to me again, and my stomach churned at the hunger in his look. "Won't take long. We'll keep her alive. For a while."
Rage surged in me, stronger than the fear. My crowbar trembled in my hand, but not from weakness this time. From the fury boiling inside. "Try it," I spat.
The leader's smirk widened. He lunged.
It all happened at once. The machete swung for me, and I barely managed to parry with the crowbar. The metal shrieked, sparks flying. Pain shot down my arm, the force almost knocking me off balance. He was stronger than me, heavier, and the wound in my side screamed as I twisted.
Then Lysander moved.
His blade cut the air with terrifying precision. The man who had rushed him never even saw it coming — a slash across the throat, blood spraying black in the fog before the scavenger crumpled. Lysander didn't stop. He pivoted, driving his boot into another's chest, sending him sprawling into the rubble.
I had no time to watch. The leader was on me, his machete pressing down against my crowbar. My arms shook, every muscle screaming, but I held. His breath stank, hot and sour against my face as he pushed closer. "You'll scream for me before I'm done."
The words snapped something inside me. I screamed first — raw, furious — and shoved with everything I had. The sudden burst of strength knocked him off balance, and before he could recover, I swung the crowbar sideways. It smashed into his jaw with a sickening crack. Teeth scattered in the dirt as he staggered, blood pouring from his mouth.
"Bitch!" he roared, spitting red. He raised the machete again — but he never got to bring it down. A silver blur cut across his chest. He froze, eyes wide, before collapsing in a heap at my feet, blood seeping into the broken asphalt.
I blinked, chest heaving. Lysander stood there, his blade dripping crimson, his face unreadable. He didn't look at me, didn't say anything. Just turned to the last scavenger, who was scrambling to his feet, terror flooding his features.
"Wait—!" the man cried, dropping his weapon. "I give up! Please, I—"
Lysander's sword went straight through his heart. The man gasped once, eyes wide with disbelief, before falling silent.
I froze. My stomach twisted, bile rising to my throat. They were monsters in their own right, yes. They would've done worse to me if they'd had the chance. I knew that. But still, watching Lysander cut them down without hesitation, without even blinking…
I wasn't sure if I should feel grateful. Or horrified.
The silence after the fight was deafening. My arms shook as I lowered the crowbar, blood dripping down my side. My heart thundered in my ears, my whole body trembling with adrenaline.
Then, the System chimed.
[ Shared Battle Complete. ]
[ Bond Synergy: 5% → 12% ]
[ Bonus Effect: Stat Synchronization (Minor) Unlocked. ]
A strange warmth rippled through me, like a thread stitching itself into my veins. My muscles eased, just slightly, and the pain in my side dulled. My vision sharpened. It was subtle, but unmistakable. The System was linking me to him, whether I liked it or not.
I glanced at Lysander. His expression hadn't changed, but the flicker of his gaze told me he'd felt it too.
"I don't need your help," I muttered, my voice breaking despite myself.
"You'd be dead without me." His tone was flat, almost bored, but the words cut deep.
"Maybe," I admitted through clenched teeth, forcing myself to stand taller. "But don't think for one second I trust you."
His eyes narrowed, faintly amused. "Good. Trust makes you sloppy."
I wanted to scream at him. To tell him I'd rather take my chances with the Aberrations than spend another second with his smug face. But then I looked down at the blood pooling around the scavengers' bodies. I thought about the quest, the bond, the penalty. Death.
I wasn't ready to die. Not yet.
The world was too quiet again. No birds. No wind. Just the lingering stench of blood. My stomach twisted, and I turned away, breathing hard, trying not to vomit. My crowbar felt heavier than ever.
"Move," Lysander said behind me.
I spun. "Excuse me?"
He gestured with his blade toward the ruins ahead. "This place isn't safe. More will come. We need shelter."
The word we clawed at me. We. I hated it. But he was right. And the wound in my side wasn't going to heal itself.
So I followed him. Through the ruins, across streets cracked open like broken bones, past cars twisted into husks. The world was silent, but not in a peaceful way. It was the silence of something watching, waiting.
We found a half-collapsed building — maybe once an office, now a skeleton of concrete and steel. Inside, it was dark, the air thick with dust. Lysander swept the room first, methodical, before nodding. "Safe enough."
I sank against the wall, every muscle throbbing. My blood soaked through my shirt, sticky and warm. I pressed my hand against the wound, gritting my teeth.
"Let me see," Lysander said.
I glared at him. "Don't touch me."
"You'll bleed out if you keep being stubborn."
"I'll manage."
His expression hardened. For the first time, a hint of frustration cracked through his calm exterior. He crouched in front of me, close enough that I could see the flecks of silver in his eyes. "You think I want to waste time patching you up? If you die, I die. That's how the bond works. So stop making this harder than it already is."
The truth hit me like a slap. If I went down, he went with me. Not because he cared. Not because he wanted me alive. But because the System demanded it.
The thought should've comforted me. Instead, it twisted in my chest, sharp and suffocating.
I didn't fight when he tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve and pressed it against my side. I flinched at the sting, biting back a cry. His hands were steady, efficient, as he tied the makeshift bandage. No hesitation. No gentleness. Just necessity.
When he finished, he pulled back without a word. He didn't ask if I was okay. He didn't check my face. He just stood, blade in hand, staring out into the shadows.
I hated him. I hated him more than I had ever hated anyone.
But in that moment, with the bond tying our fates together, with blood on both our hands and silence pressing down on us, I knew the truth I didn't want to admit.
I needed him.
And that was worse than anything.