'Now then… what to do?'
Jonas studied the young boy standing a few meters away and let his thoughts sink inward. He had sensed other survivors days ago—two faint presences moving cautiously through the ruins—but only now had he chosen to reveal himself. He had expected scavengers, maybe desperate adults hardened by starvation.
Not children.
They couldn't have been older than eight.
The boy stood in front, shoulders tense, a knife held awkwardly yet firmly in his grip. His eyes weren't wild with fear. They were calculating.
Behind him, somewhere out of sight—
'He's distracted. Now's my chance.'
Jonas didn't hear Sylvia's whisper, but he felt the shift in intent. A killing intent far too sharp for a child.
…
"If we ever find another human, we need the higher ground." Ethan swung the knife in small arcs, testing its weight. His wrists were thin, but his grip was disciplined.
Sylvia stood behind him, holding the plasma gun they had scavenged from a collapsed security outpost. It was scratched, half-charged, and precious beyond words.
"There's a saying," she continued calmly. "Conversation can only be held between equals. Society is gone. Power decides everything now."
The gun hummed faintly in her hands. Fifteen shots left. Maybe less.
"We can't assume anyone's an ally."
Ethan glanced at the weapon, envy flickering across his face. "So what do we do?"
"Fight first. Ask later. Establish authority. Or make them understand the advantages of working with us."
Her voice held no hesitation.
…
Jonas shifted his weight slightly, still pretending to deliberate.
His instincts screamed.
He leaned back.
A blade sliced through the air where his throat had been a fraction of a second earlier. The wind of its passage brushed his skin.
'He's fast.'
Jonas' eyes sharpened as he raised his right hand. Ethan didn't hesitate after missing—he twisted his wrist mid-swing, the knife flashing upward in a return arc meant for Jonas' ribs.
Jonas caught the flat of the blade between two fingers.
At that exact moment, something else screamed toward him.
'She's firing? Doesn't she care about her brother?'
The plasma round arrived in a streak of white-blue light.
Jonas released the blade and pivoted, raising his left arm. The compact aegis strapped there flared to life. The plasma bolt slammed into it with a violent hiss, heat exploding outward in a shockwave that blasted dust from the ground.
The impact shoved him back half a step.
'I see. Coordinated.'
He lowered his arm slowly, smoke rising from the aegis' surface.
Ethan was already moving again.
For a child, his footwork was shockingly precise. He didn't charge blindly—he circled, using his smaller frame to dip into Jonas' blind spots. His knife came low this time, aimed for the kidney.
Jonas parried with his forearm, metal bracer ringing against steel. He countered with a palm strike.
Ethan ducked under it.
'Good reflexes.'
Another plasma shot.
Jonas twisted his torso just enough that the bolt grazed past his shoulder instead of piercing it. It burned a molten line through the concrete wall behind him.
He smiled faintly.
'This is obviously their first battle against humans… but they're doing well.'
Ethan clicked his tongue and suddenly reversed his grip, feinting high before dropping low and darting behind Jonas. In one fluid motion, he leapt and drove the knife downward toward his spine.
"A good move," Jonas said softly.
Without turning, he reached back and caught the boy by the collar mid-air. The momentum shifted violently.
"But you need to be more deceptive."
He pivoted and slammed Ethan into the ground.
The impact cracked the pavement.
Air burst from the boy's lungs as his small body bounced once before skidding across broken stone. Pain shot through his spine like lightning.
Jonas didn't let the moment linger.
"And as a sniper," he continued conversationally, glancing toward a half-collapsed balcony, "you need to relocate after firing."
He bent, picked up a pebble no bigger than a marble, and flicked it.
The air detonated.
The stone vanished in a sonic crack.
Sylvia threw herself backward just as the projectile struck her position. The plasma gun in her hands exploded into fragments, metal shards shredding the wall behind her.
She hit the ground hard, rolling instinctively.
'He's strong.'
She didn't hesitate. Abandoning the ruined weapon, she sprang to her feet and dashed toward Jonas, closing the distance before he could exploit her disarmament.
"Don't forget about me," Ethan muttered hoarsely.
He forced his trembling body upright, ignoring the fire in his spine. He sprinted forward again.
Jonas watched both of them approach—one frontal, one flanking.
'Good. They didn't freeze.'
Sylvia reached him first.
She didn't attack wildly. Instead, she aimed low—sweeping her leg toward his knee while thrusting a concealed shard of metal toward his abdomen.
Jonas stepped over the sweep and twisted sideways, the shard scraping harmlessly against his armored vest. He grabbed her wrist.
Ethan lunged at that exact second.
Jonas released Sylvia instantly and rotated, letting Ethan's blade skim across his sleeve instead of his flesh. He drove his elbow backward.
The strike connected with Ethan's side.
The boy was sent airborne.
He crashed into the side of a ruined building, stone fracturing under the impact. Dust cascaded down as he slid to the ground.
Sylvia's eyes widened—but only for a fraction of a second.
She pressed forward.
Jonas blocked her strikes with minimal movement, each deflection precise. She aimed for joints, throat, groin—no wasted motions.
'She analyzes while fighting.'
He caught her shoulder and spun her away, but she twisted mid-motion and kicked toward his head. Jonas tilted slightly, the kick brushing his hair.
'Sharp.'
Ethan staggered back into the fray.
'I can still follow his movements,' he told himself through the pain. 'I just need one opening.'
He dove in low again, blade angled upward.
Jonas sighed almost imperceptibly.
"And if you're fighting an unknown enemy," he said quietly, "judge their intentions first."
His fist moved.
Ethan never saw it.
A crushing blow slammed into his side and launched him through the air. He smashed through a shattered window and disappeared into the dark interior of the building.
Silence fell.
Sylvia stood frozen for half a second before forcing herself to breathe.
Jonas lowered his hand.
"Ah," he muttered. "She's going to complain again. I suppose this counts as child abuse."
He turned as Sylvia approached cautiously, her breathing steady despite the tremor in her muscles.
Her eyes were sharp. Not broken.
"Who… are you?" she asked warily.
Jonas studied her face, then glanced toward the building where Ethan had crashed. He could still sense the boy's consciousness—faint, but intact.
He considered lying.
Instead, he shrugged lightly.
"Me? I'm just a soldier."
His gaze hardened for a fleeting moment.
"One who lost at that."