The camp was divided.
Half the delinquents clustered around Bellamy, drawn to his defiance like moths to flame—young, angry, and hungry for someone who sounded fearless.
The others hovered near Clarke, waiting for order to make sense again. But every glance kept drifting toward Ares—the stranger who'd walked out of the forest bloodstained and unshaken.
He said nothing that night.
He didn't need to.
Instead, he worked.
He cleared the treeline of corpses and covered the shallow graves.
He carved stakes from saplings, digging trenches until his hands bled.
He didn't ask for help. He didn't look for it.
By the time the moon climbed high, Octavia was silently beside him, sleeves rolled, sweat streaking her face.
By morning, six others joined.
By noon, even Bellamy hadn't interrupted.
SYSTEM NOTICE:Social Influence Detected.
Temporary Effect Activated:Field Commander — +10 % stat efficiency when issuing orders to cooperating allies.
When the sun reached its peak, they had the makings of a real camp: a perimeter, lines of sight, and a sense that maybe—just maybe—they could live through tomorrow.
That's when the shouting started.
"Hey! Over here! We found something!"
Two boys stumbled out of the forest dragging a scorched supply crate. When they cracked it open, the air changed.
Inside: sealed food packs, flare cartridges, and weapons—crude knives, stun batons, and one compact pistol.
The group surged forward like starving dogs.
Bellamy got there first. His hand closed around the gun.
"This," he said, holding it high, "changes everything."
"No," Ares replied, voice flat. "It doesn't."
Heads turned. Bellamy's grin faltered.
"You think you're in charge because you made a few traps and scared the kids?" Bellamy shot back. "You want this gun, then take it."
A ripple of tension ran through the crowd—half thrill, half dread.
Ares stepped forward. Calm. Controlled.
No aggression. Just inevitability.
SYSTEM NOTICE:Challenge Detected.
Opponent: Bellamy Blake
Estimated Stats: Strength 7 | Agility 6 | Constitution 6 | Charm 10
Combat Mode Engaged.
Bellamy struck first—wild, fast. The punch cut air.
Ares slipped aside and drove his fist into Bellamy's gut. The crack echoed.
Bellamy doubled over, gasping. Before he could recover, Ares kicked his legs out and twisted the pistol from his hand in a single, surgical motion.
Bellamy hit dirt.
Silence.
Ares stood over him, the gun steady at his side.
"I warned you," he said. "This isn't a democracy. It's survival. And survival needs one voice."
He looked up, gaze sweeping the camp like a blade.
"I'm not asking you to like me. I'm telling you to follow me—because anyone else will get you killed."
He tossed the pistol to the crate with a dull thud. "No one carries a weapon they can't control."
Bellamy coughed and rolled onto his side. No one helped him.
SYSTEM UPDATE:Authority Confirmed.
Charm +1 → Total 14.
New Passive:Unquestioned — Public victory increases loyalty among witnesses by 20 %.
By dusk, fires burned low around the camp. Clarke knelt beside the flames, her face half-lit, studying him.
"You're dangerous," she said softly.
"So is this planet," Ares replied. "I just adapted first."
She didn't argue. But she didn't look away either.
"You could've killed him."
"I didn't need to."
Octavia sharpened a blade nearby, smirking. "He'll think twice before trying again."
"He won't be the last," Ares said. "But fear works faster than speeches."
He rose, scanning the dark beyond the stakes. The forest was too quiet—air thick with waiting.
Then movement.
Not a Grounder's gait.
Smoother. Calculated. Watching.
SYSTEM ALERT:Unknown Entity Detected.
Analyzing…
Classification: Enhanced Human.
Threat Level: Moderate–High.
Ares narrowed his eyes toward the trees.
So Earth had evolved too.
Good.
He smiled faintly.
Then let's see who adapts faster.