The recreation room was a wreck in the aftermath of violence. Broken furniture, bloodstains despite the surgical nature of the cuts, and scattered supplies covered the floor.
Elric stood near the broken window, scanning the horizon where the sun dipped behind collapsed skyscrapers, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that seemed appropriate for the apocalypse.
Behind him, Natasha and Jenna were hurriedly stuffing food into worn backpacks they'd found among Henry's supplies, their movements quick and efficient, born from days of survival training.
They knew exactly what Elric meant when he said "Take everything that's left."
The supplies had originally belonged to Henry and his forced labor group—survivors who'd scavenged under threat of violence. Until Elric had dismembered their leader just minutes ago.
In a world where food was rarer than mercy, where people killed over cans of soup, no one had time for guilt over taking what they needed.
Still, when Natasha started sweeping packets of jerky and rice into her bag with businesslike efficiency, one of the teachers they'd rescued earlier couldn't hold back.
"Natasha… how can you do this?" The middle-aged man's voice trembled with moral outrage. "Those supplies belong to all of us! We should distribute them fairly!"
His name was Professor Martin, a philosophy teacher who apparently still believed in pre-apocalypse ethics.
Elric turned slowly, his eyes cold as winter frost. A silver gleam flashed across the room—his spectral blade materialized with a flicker of blue energy, the ROOM ability activating without visible effort.
The next second, the man's voice was cut off mid-sentence, along with everything else.
His body fell in two perfect halves on the floor, separated at the waist with surgical precision.
Elric's tone was calm, almost polite, as if he'd just closed a door rather than killed a man. "Anyone else want to discuss ethics right now? I'm open to opinions and philosophical debates."
Silence. Dead, absolute silence.
Only the wind whistled through the broken glass, carrying the toxic fog with it.
The surviving teachers and students stared at the bisected corpse, faces pale as ghosts. A few shook their heads rapidly, stammering through terror, "N-No, sir… no opinions… we understand perfectly…"
Even Professor Martin, somehow still conscious in his separated halves, dared not make another sound. His eyes were wide but his mouth remained shut.
Elric exhaled softly and waved them off with casual dismissal. "Good. Then let's not waste time arguing about fairness in a world that has none."
He sat down on a fallen bench, resting his back against the cracked wall. His mana reserves—or whatever energy his abilities consumed—were still recovering from the fight, and for now, he just needed quiet and time.
Natasha and Jenna kept organizing supplies, their movements synchronized now, efficient. They'd learned to work together despite their rivalry, united by the common goal of pleasing Elric.
Then a cry broke the stillness, cutting through the tension like a knife.
A woman's voice—soft, trembling, filled with genuine grief that stood out in this hardened world.
Elric turned toward the sound with mild curiosity.
A tall woman knelt beside a dying man in the corner. She had shoulder-length wavy hair that caught the fading light, sharp features that spoke of intelligence and strength, and the kind of presence that even despair couldn't fully dim.
Her clothes were torn and dusty from whatever ordeal she'd been through, but there was still elegance in her every motion, grace in how she held herself.
"Stay with me, Michael, please…" she whispered, holding the man's hand tightly. Blood stained her white shirt red—his blood, seeping from internal injuries Henry had inflicted.
Natasha glanced over, then moved closer to Elric to whisper context. "That's Grace. Grace. She used to teach literature here—the strict one everyone feared. The guy dying is her husband Michael—they were… one of the few happy couples left before this all went to hell."
Elric's eyes narrowed with interest. His System interface flickered to life before him, visible only to him.
[System Scan Complete]
Subject: Grace
Age: 29
Appearance: 8.2/10
Physical Fitness: 9.1/10 (Athletic background)
Mental Stability: 9.9/10 (Trauma Detected but Managing)
Evaluation: "High-Value Survivor — Suitable for Recruitment."
Reward Multiplier: ×8
A slow grin touched his lips as he processed the information.
Even after all the chaos, after all the violence and death, the System continued to work in his favor, identifying valuable resources.
"Interesting," he muttered under his breath.
Natasha looked up at him, reading the flicker of calculation in his eyes with practiced ease. She'd learned to recognize that expression.
"Elric… you're not thinking of letting her go, are you?"
"Of course not," he said simply, matter-of-factly. "She's valuable. High compatibility rating."
Natasha hesitated for just a moment, then smiled faintly—a knowing smile that showed she understood the game now.
"Elric, Grace and I were coworkers before everything fell apart. We weren't close friends, but we knew each other. She trusts me, or at least she'll recognize me. Let me talk to her. I'll make sure she joins us—willingly."
Elric tilted his head, genuinely impressed by her initiative and understanding of what needed to be done.
"You're learning fast, Natasha. I like that."
He leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest, eyes fixed on Grace across the room as she sobbed beside her dying husband, unaware that her fate was being decided.
"Good," he murmured, satisfaction coloring his voice. "Let's see how convincing you can be."
This would be a test—not just for Grace, but for Natasha's loyalty and usefulness beyond the physical.
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