Chapter 172 — First Night Rescue
S.C. 1512 — Midnight
Gray Terminal — Scrap Hills
The Gray Terminal changed at night.
During the day, people wandered, scavenged, fought over scraps, argued, and shouted.
At night—
There was almost no sound.
Just coughing.
Occasional weak cries.
The faint clatter of someone collapsing against metal.
Ren moved silently between piles of junk, Zemo beside him, their footsteps swallowed by the darkness. His telepathic sense stretched outward in a slow, controlled wave.
He did not search for danger.
He searched for the weakest.
Individuals with faint heartbeats.
Shallow breaths.
Bodies barely moving.
Those who wouldn't last until sunrise.
Zemo growled softly and stopped beside a leaning stack of rusted barrels.
Ren felt it too.
Three weak signatures inside.
---
The First Group
Ren pushed aside the barrels gently and slipped inside a makeshift hut made from cloth and splintered boards.
Inside were three figures:
A boy around seven
A woman in her twenties
An elderly man, barely conscious
All lying on torn cloth, eyes half-open, lips cracked from dehydration.
The woman stirred first.
"…Please… no more…"
Her voice was nothing more than broken air.
Ren crouched carefully.
"I'm not here to hurt you," he whispered. "I'm here to help."
Her cloudy eyes widened at the sight of a child with a lantern and a fox like a shadow behind him. She tried to sit up—
Her arms collapsed immediately.
Ren's expression didn't change, but his chest tightened.
Zemo pressed close, gently nudging the old man's arm. The man weakly opened one eye.
Ren reached into his satchel and took out a small flask of water.
The woman's eyes followed it desperately.
"Only sip slowly," Ren murmured, lifting her head gently and letting a few drops fall into her mouth.
Her body trembled as if the water burned.
Next, he held the flask to the old man's lips. The man swallowed with great effort.
Last was the little boy, who stared blankly before gripping Ren's sleeve with trembling fingers.
"…don't go," he mumbled.
Ren touched the boy's head lightly.
"I won't."
---
Transport Decision
They couldn't walk.
Carrying them would take time—too much time if he had to make multiple trips.
But Ren had planned for this.
He stepped outside and pulled from behind the scrap pile a collapsible stretcher—KEA frame, cloth surface. Light, strong, portable.
He whispered, "Zemo, guard them for a moment."
Zemo took position at the doorway.
Ren unfolded the stretcher and returned inside. He lifted the little boy first—carefully, slowly—and laid him on the stretcher. The woman next. Finally, the old man.
None of them resisted. They barely had strength to breathe.
Ren tightened the straps.
Zemo sniffed the air.
His fur rose slightly.
Ren closed his eyes, expanding his telepathic sense—
Two half-awake scavengers nearby.
One rummaging for scrap.
Another searching for water.
Not hostile. Just desperate.
Still, Ren lowered the lantern light and whispered:
"We leave now."
---
Silent Journey
Ren lifted the stretcher's handle.
His enhanced strength made the weight manageable.
His telepathic sense swept ahead, adjusting their route every few steps to avoid alerting groups of scavengers or drunk squatters.
Zemo walked beside him, light-footed.
The path wound through metallic mountains, broken carts, and narrow gaps that only someone small could navigate.
Every few minutes, the boy whimpered.
The woman stared blankly.
The old man drifted in and out of awareness.
Ren kept walking.
---
Forest Border
After nearly forty minutes, Ren reached the forest edge connecting Gray Terminal to the path leading toward Foosha—and beyond that, the hidden island's secret dock.
The air felt cooler.
The forest life signatures felt healthier.
Ren loosened his shoulders slightly.
Zemo sniffed loudly, tail relaxing.
"We're close," Ren whispered.
---
Crossing the Sea
Ren reached the small hidden inlet where his boat was camouflaged beneath branches and rocks.
He loaded the three refugees into the boat carefully, checked their breathing, and covered them with cloth to shield them from cold night wind.
Zemo jumped in, curling near the boy for warmth.
Ren pushed the boat into the water and began rowing—steady, quiet strokes.
The hidden island lay ahead, a dark silhouette surrounded by natural mist.
Tonight, the fog wasn't active.
But even without machines, the island always looked forgotten by the world.
Perfect for hiding people who needed a second chance.
Ren rowed silently until the boat touched the small landing platform.
He carried the refugees one by one into the temporary shelter chamber—bare but dry, clean, and stocked with blankets and herbs.
He gave each one slow sips of water again.
Zemo lay beside them protectively.
Ren covered them with blankets and whispered:
"You're safe now."
---
A Long Night Ahead
Ren sat at the entrance of the shelter.
He had three saved.
Hundreds more remained.
The drought wasn't even at its peak yet.
Ren closed his eyes, breath steady.
This would not be a one-night task.
This was only the beginning.
Zemo rested his head on Ren's leg.
Ren whispered:
"We continue tomorrow."
---
End of Chapter 172