NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: The Hunter
The sun was still low in the sky, casting long shadows across the ruined New York city. Smoke curled from distant fires, and the air carried a lingering tension—an unspoken promise that things were only going to get worse.
Leo adjusted the straps of his backpack, glancing at Lisa, who walked beside him with an ease that didn't match their grim surroundings. She moved like she belonged in this chaos, her every step measured, calculated. The system had labeled her a Hidden Talent, but what that meant exactly, Leo still wasn't sure.
What he did know was that she was dangerous.
And in this world, dangerous was valuable.
The city was unraveling.
Leo and Lisa moved through the crumbling streets, where the first signs of true chaos had begun to take root. Smoke billowed from shattered storefronts, alarm sirens blared without purpose, and the distant echoes of gunfire served as a grim reminder that humanity was eating itself alive.
Leo had expected this. He had lived through it once before, in a life that now felt like a distant dream. But watching it unfold again, seeing the familiar patterns of despair and violence play out, left a bitter taste in his mouth. It was like reliving a nightmare, only this time, he was awake.
"So," Lisa spoke, her voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Where are we headed? We should head somewhere safe," she said, stepping over a pile of broken glass as they maneuvered through an abandoned intersection.
Leo didn't answer right away. His eyes swept over the area, taking in every detail, every sound. His senses were heightened, sharpened by years of survival instincts honed in a world that no longer existed.
A group of survivors was gathered near a looted pharmacy, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. An older man sat on the curb, cradling his bleeding arm, his expression one of quiet resignation.
A woman knelt beside him, trying to comfort a crying child, her voice soft and soothing despite the despair in her eyes. They were harmless—just ordinary people trying to survive in a world that had turned against them.
But then Leo's gaze shifted to another group a few meters away, and his stomach tightened.
Three men stood near a flipped-over vehicle, their laughter harsh and jarring against the backdrop of destruction.
One of them, a wiry looking guy with a scar running down his cheek, idly flipped a bloodstained knife in his hand, the blade catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. The other two carried backpacks—stolen supplies, most likely, their weight sagging with the spoils of their scavenging. They exude an air of confidence, of entitlement, as if the collapse of society had been a gift to them.
Leo didn't need a system notification to tell him what they were. Scavengers. Predators. The worst kind of survivors—the kind that thrived when law and order crumbled, feeding on the weak and the desperate. They were the ones who saw chaos as an opportunity, who reveled in the absence of rules.
Lisa followed his gaze, her expression unreadable. "I take it we're not just going to walk past them," she said, her voice low and steady.
Leo rolled his shoulders, feeling the familiar weight of his blade at his side. "They won't stop with just taking supplies," he said, his tone flat but laced with a quiet intensity. He had seen men like this before, in his past life, and he knew their kind. They didn't just take—they destroyed, leaving nothing but pain in their wake.
She smirked, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "Then let's make sure they stop altogether," she said, her words confirming what Leo had already suspected—she wasn't someone who hesitated when it came to violence. That made things simpler, at least for now.
The three scavengers hadn't noticed them yet, too caught up in their own bravado. Leo took the lead, walking with deliberate steps, his presence calm but commanding. He stopped a few feet away, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, ready to draw at a moment's notice.
One of the men, the wiry one with the scar, finally noticed. He nudged the tallest of the group—a bulky man with a shaved head and a self-satisfied grin that made Leo's blood boil.
"Look at this," Scarface muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Another dumb hero?"
Shaved Head chuckled, his laughter a low, guttural sound that grated on Leo's nerves. "Listen, buddy," he said, his tone patronizing. "If you're here for the supplies, you're outta luck. We got here first."
Leo's grip on his blade tightened, his knuckles whitening. "That's not why I'm here," he said, his voice steady, his eyes locked on Shaved Head.
Shaved Head raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh? Then what do you want?" he asked, his tone mocking, as if he already knew the answer and found it amusing.
Leo tilted his head toward the older man on the curb, his gaze never leaving the scavengers. "You did that?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
Scarface's grin widened, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Maybe," he said, his tone taunting, daring Leo to make a move.
The third man, a lanky figure with nervous energy, let out a short, sharp laugh. "What's it to you?" he asked, his voice high and jittery, as if he was feeding off the tension.
Lisa sighed, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You should've lied," she said, her tone almost bored, as if she had already seen how this would end.
Before any of them could react, Leo moved.
His blade slashed upward in a swift, precise arc, catching Scarface across the throat. Blood sprayed out in a thick, crimson line as the man stumbled back, his hands flying to his neck in a futile attempt to stem the flow. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, but no sound came.
Shaved Head roared, his hand reaching for a pistol tucked into his waistband, but Lisa was already there. She kicked his knee out from under him with a sickening crunch, sending him crashing to the pavement. In the same fluid motion, she grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply until the gun clattered to the ground, useless.
The lanky man barely had time to process what was happening before Leo drove his blade into his chest. A choked gasp escaped his lips, his eyes wide with terror, and then he collapsed, his body crumpling to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut.
Shaved Head, now the only one left, tried to scramble backward, his face pale with fear. "W-Wait! We can—" he stammered, his voice trembling, but Lisa silenced him with a sharp stomp to his throat. His body spasmed once, then stilled, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.
The fight had lasted less than ten seconds, a brutal, efficient display of violence that left no room for mercy.
Leo exhaled slowly, his breath steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. He wiped his blade on one of the dead men's shirts.
[You have slain an enemy.]
[+20 XP]
[+20 XP]
Lisa crouched beside Shaved Head's body, retrieving the gun with a practiced ease. She inspected it briefly, her fingers deft and sure, before tucking it into her waistband. "Not bad," she said, her tone almost approving.
Leo glanced toward the older man and the woman still clutching the child. They were staring, wide-eyed, their expressions a mix of fear and relief. The child had stopped crying, his small body trembling against his mother's chest.
Lisa followed his gaze, her smirk softening slightly. "You think they'll be grateful?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Leo knew better. In times like these, fear and gratitude were often twisted together in the minds of those who had seen too much. But that didn't matter. He hadn't done it for them, not really. He had done it because men like these scavengers were a cancer, spreading through the ruins of society, and if left unchecked, they would only grow stronger.
"They'll survive," he said simply, his voice calm but firm.
Lisa hummed in amusement, her eyes glinting with a spark of mischief. "So, what now?" she asked, her tone light but expectant.
Leo looked up at the city around them, its skyline a jagged silhouette against the smoke-filled sky. The chaos was only beginning, a storm that would sweep across the world, leaving nothing untouched. And in the ruins, there were plenty more scavengers, looters, and would-be kings lurking, waiting for their chance to rise.
He sheathed his blade.
"Now?" he said, his voice steady, his resolve unshakable.
"We keep hunting."