Four people walked out of the library as soon as we arrived. “Trailer trash” was a good way to describe them: the leader had a long mullet with a torn AC/DC shirt he had converted into a muscle shirt at some point. The woman beside him had her black-dyed hair knotted up so thick you’d never know it was ever combed, wearing a Yellowstone National Park shirt and daisy dukes that exposed a random patchwork of unconnected tattoos on her thighs. The other two didn’t look like they were with them; just two kids that got wrapped up in their crew.

  “Aight,” Mullet Man said when I walked up, tossing a handful of pebbles in his hand. “This is what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna drop the fledges and weapons, and then piss off. ‘Cause if you don’t, you’ll look like that little posse right there.”

  I glanced down and saw a man with his lower jaw blown off. He had a woman beside him, riddled with what appeared to be bullet wounds. There was also an older woman—clearly a civilian.

  “Looks like you already killed a fledgling,” I noted.

  “Sure did,” Mullet Man said. “Damn shame, too. Problem is, my power don’t differ~ent~iate.” He juggled the pebbles in his hand. “So when he done attack, we done re~tal~i~ate.” He pointed at the man on the ground. “Smoked the whole group. Get it? Now drop the machete and fledgling and fuck off.”

  I checked if Mana Sharpening worked on my body—and then dropped the machete. As soon as it hit the ground, I pounced, grabbing his wrist. I activated Mana Sharpening, and his wrist separated into five parts—blood squirting everywhere. His panicked partner tried to attack me, but she might as well have been as slow as molasses. I slapped Mullet Man, and my fingers went straight through his skull, carrying forward until they hit the woman’s collarbone. She screamed. I’m sure it hurt like hell.

  I got a chime for killing Mullet Man. It read:

  You have killed Level 26 human

  The other two men didn’t stay idle. One summoned electricity over his body, but Brooke’s katana pierced through his skull. No hesitation. I appreciated it.

  Mullet Man’s blood suddenly swirled to life by virtue of the last man’s skill. I didn’t know what would happen—but I didn’t like it. So I attacked immediately, kicking his leg. It bent sideways in a sideways V, sending him screaming.

  “Emily!” I yelled. I didn’t want her to kill anyone, but she needed the stats.

  In this world, power meant everything.

  Thankfully, Emily didn’t hesitate. Whether it was adrenaline or something else, she flew forward with the fire axe. Far stronger after killing the Squawker, she didn’t know her strength when she slammed the blade onto the man’s skull. Her eyes trembled, likely from getting the level-up confirmation that she killed him.

  “You son of a bitch!” the trailer trash woman screamed, gripping her collarbone. She lifted her hand toward me, but I kicked it, snapping it clean off the wrist. “Emily!”

  Emily panicked again, and without even really looking, she swung the axe. The blade cleaved through the woman’s chest—silencing her in one blow. Just like that, four vultures were mowed down—and Emily leveled up, probably nearing evolution. Brooke was in that same boat, judging by her expression. As for David, he woke up at that exact moment, fading into consciousness—right as it was time to walk inside.

  The timing was disturbing.

  Was it acting? I wondered, but tossed the thought aside. David was cross-eyed, and when he pushed himself up, he puked. Something wasn’t quite right with his body, either. He kept spasming.

  There’s something weird about this guy… I silently concluded. I wonder what his power is?

  “It’s okay,” I heard Brooke say. When I turned, I saw her holding Danny. Emily might’ve been the one to calm him down, but I could tell that Brooke was the one who genuinely cared about him. There was clearly a story behind her maternal behavior. I’d never know it, though. Once Brooke and I entered that library, our time together would be over. This was it—goodbye.

  It was bittersweet.

  Emily was worse for wear. Her eyes shook as she stared at the axe in her hands. “I-I killed them,” she muttered.

  “Come here…” I said, opening my arms. She dropped the axe and hugged me and sobbed. “They killed a lot of people. They would've killed us, too. You know that, right?”

  “Y-Yeah,” she said. “I-I know, but…”

  “Shhh,” I hushed her softly, just the way our mother used to do. “Let’s go inside. That way, we can talk in safety.”

  Emily nodded, picked up the axe, and followed me inside. Brooke said, “Take David’s hand,” and passed off Danny, who was David’s fledgling. David said, “What? You’re giving me one?” and we nodded. He didn’t question it past that. He grabbed Danny’s hand and followed us inside, ending the tutorial.

  Congratulations! You have completed tutorial “Protect the Fledglings.”

  Reward: Information Request

  I received another chime and wanted to check the notification, but we were immediately swarmed by Chosens. I dismissed it as a woman ran up.

  “Is he dead?” she asked frantically. Five more gathered around—all awaiting the same answer. I looked back. The barricade prevented people from seeing, so I asked for clarification.

  “You mean Mullet Man?” I asked.

  “Yeah! That son of a bitch stole my fledgling!”

  I turned to Emily. “Yes. She killed ‘em.”

  Emily panicked, but she was immediately bombarded by praise.

  “Thank you so much,” the first woman cried, tears streaming from her eyes. “If it weren’t for you, we’d’ve been stuck here.”

  Another saw Emily’s devastated expression and said, “Oh, you poor thing. Can I hug you?”

  Emily accepted the hug. It felt wrong to thrust all the responsibility onto Emily like that, but she needed it. She needed to know that this was how things were now, and that doing things for yourself often coincided with doing things for others. There were bad people on the loose—people looking for shortcuts—people who were willing to do anything for power. Those people needed to be dealt with—at any cost.

  Besides, Emily didn’t get the brunt of it. Most could tell by my blood-soaked clothing that I was the one who ran the show. A man walked up and whispered, “I’m sorry to ask but… did you get transferred his fledglings? He stole mine, and prevented us from going out. I mean, there’s people at the other door, too. So…”

  I understood that he was talking about Mullet Man and what happened to the fledglings he stole. Unfortunately: “It didn’t give them to me. That’s honest.”

  The man winced. “Will you help us? I’ll give you the rewards. Plus, I’m sure the bonus reward’s really good.”

  “Bonus reward?” I pulled up the second notification that I had missed.

  You have received an optional sub-tutorial: Aid the Chosens

  Description: There are often benefits to helping those around you. Help other teams protect their fledglings for unknown rewards.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  Note: Aided teams must enter the library within fifteen minutes of your direct help or presence.

  Requirements

  Duration: 14:02:03

  Reward(s): Unknown

  I considered it, but ultimately shook my head. “Sorry. My friends and I just killed a bunch of people. We need sleep and time to process.”

  “No… please,” a woman pleaded.

  “There’s a ton of fledglings through the city,” Brooke said. “Probably five per group. If you give me some paper, I’ll write down some locations I found thirty minutes ago. They’re close.”

  “Really? Wait here!” Someone grabbed a book and tore out the blank page at the front of it. Another scrambled for a pen. As they waited, I glanced at Danny, who was holding Brooke’s hand, and then at her.

  “Well?” I asked. “Is this really it?”

  Brooke considered it, pursed her lips, and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” I turned to Emily, “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” I turned and saw David massaging the back of his neck. “You seriously gonna leave without… I don’t know. You just saved my life and got me a fledgling.”

  “And you saved my best friend,” I replied. “If you wanna talk, we’ll do it in the morning.”

  Emily bowed her head and said, “I’ll thank you in the morning!” before following me up the frozen yellow escalator. As we walked, I heard a woman say, “Thank God there’s water in the bathroom.”

  I didn’t know how that was possible, but it was my next destination.

  ***

  I thought the bathrooms—a hallmark of human civilization—would provide respite in this post-apocalyptic wasteland. I was wrong. The bathroom was like a scene out of a snuff film: blood and organ matter all over the floor, soupy red liquid all over the countertops.

  No respect, I thought, joining a man at the sink. I expected him to look at me, but he didn’t. He was eerily absorbed with his image.

  “Heavy pockmarks on the side—scarring from acne,” he muttered. “Large ears, big lobes. Decent teeth—canine slightly crooked.” He pulled his hair up from his forehead. “Brown hair. No… hazel. Dark brown eyes. Blotchy birthmark underneath straight hair.”

  I focused less on his face and more on his appearance. He was college-aged—a pudgy man wearing a University of Washington shirt, probably a student. He wasn’t hideous, but he wasn’t pulling women at frat parties, either. He was just normal—just another person you’d see at the supermarket. Yet his obsession with his image didn’t make him look OCD; it made him seem oddly sinister for reasons I couldn’t put my finger on.

  There’s something… disturbing about that guy, I thought, trying to ignore him as I stripped off my shirt. I was immediately shocked to find that I had grown muscles. My chest was now protruding, and my arms had large biceps. Whoa. Is this from the evolution? Or does it happen when you sleep?

  I obtained great power, and my look matched.

  I pushed the thought aside and focused on cleaning my shirt with the industrial blue bathroom soap. The blood stained the white shirt pink, but there was nothing I could do about it. I just muttered as he trailed on.

  OCD, I thought, taking off my pants. Has to be. That’s what I thought, but I didn’t believe it. At some point during washing my pants, the obsessive observations drilled a hole in my temple. So I turned and said, “That your magic?”

  I was half joking, but his eyes widened like a doe in the headlights, and he yelled, “No!” before running out of the bathroom. I took a few sharp breaths, palms locked on the faux-granite counters, and considered what just happened. That had to do with his magic… the fuck type of magic he have?

  I wanted to know, but I was way too tired, so I continued scrubbing my pants.

  An hour later, I returned from the bathroom and saw Emily waiting for me. She wasn’t covered in much blood, so she didn’t take a whole hour to clean like I did.

  “Did you see that guy?” I asked. “In the U-Dub shirt?”

  “Yeah?” she said, confused.

  “Stay the fuck away from that guy. I’m not sure what type of magic he has, but it’s… Just don’t, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, staring at me. My shirt was wet, so my out-of-the-blue six pack and protruding chest were now visible and pressing against the buttons—a very, very unnatural sight.

  “Yeah, I know,” I said. “Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

  I found a place to sleep between two shelves of zines on the 7th floor. The self-published magazines were largely created from 1970 to 1990, before social media. One of my eccentric friends in high school told me that a few years ago. I never thought I’d see them again, but there we were, lying underneath them, reeking of fishy blood and industrial bathroom soap.

  I considered that as I lay, listening to Emily sleep.

  Brooke found us about twenty minutes later, holding Danny’s hand. Both their hair and clothing were wet. It was clear that she was caring for him—an endearing sight I both expected and didn’t.

  “Do you mind… if we sleep with you?” Brooke asked. “I know that you and I…” She swallowed. “He wants to be with Emily, but…”

  “He’s attached to you, too.”

  She nodded.

  “Come on,” I said. “You’re always welcome with me.”

  Brooke responded with a damning smile, but she was too beaten down to give it any bite. So, she just tiredly sat. Danny took that as permission and ran to Emily, who woke up just enough to brush his hair and say, “Come sleep with me.” She didn’t even seem to notice that Brooke was beside her. She just opened her arms and let Danny cuddle before immediately falling back to sleep.

  Brooke watched with a complex expression. “Don’t you resent it?” she asked suddenly. “Me having a problem with you after all we’ve been through?”

  I thought about her sitting in that tunnel, riddled with bites, in front of the rats she saved me from. “Not in the slightest,” I replied, and meant it. We sat in a deep, contemplative silence after that. I expected the conversation to return, and it might have. But exhaustion seized Brooke, and she was soon asleep, giving me time to focus solely on Emily.

  I brushed hair out of my sister’s eyes. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. That was good; I didn’t want her to hear what I had to say. “I’ll give you the life I promised,” I vowed. “It may take a long time, but I’ll give you the life I promised.” Then, I said the part I didn’t want her to hear. “And I’ll do anything to make it happen.”

  Troy, Edgar, Mullet Man. I had killed three people, seven if I counted the execution orders I made to Brooke and my sister. And I knew that number would soon increase.

  My humanity was dwindling, but I wouldn’t slow down. Not until this lawless hellhole had been tamed into a place where Emily could live without fear. That meant that I had to become so strong that others felt fear at the very thought of touching her. That’s what I decided before I drifted into sleep.

  ***

  I woke to a cacophony of screaming. “Kyle,” Emily said, shaking me awake.

  “What?” I asked.

  “People are killing each other outside!”

  I shot up and checked the time on my notifications.

  Tutorial(s): Protect the Fledglings, Aid the Chosens

  Time remaining: 02:47:14

  I winced. “I thought this would happen, but… we can’t. It’ll just cause problems.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  I shifted my gaze and found Brooke leaning against a zine rack, arms folded, her eyes drifting in thought. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Running around playing hero is gonna piss off the bad people."

  “Not if they’re dead,” she replied, and meant it.

  A dysphoric wave of shivers cascaded over my shoulders and down my lower back. I knew what she was saying, and it was blunt and cold and unyielding.

  “Those people out there aren’t desperate Chosens,” Brooke argued. “They’re mercenaries. And those mercenaries are just gonna get stronger. If you want to protect Emily, I’d probably get rid of them when you’re strong enough to deal with them. That said, I can’t really help you. They’re far stronger than I am. Just telling you the situation.”

  I didn’t want to hear it—but it was true. The strongest people tomorrow were the cruelest people today, and that was a bleak reality that we needed to avoid. Otherwise, we’d live under a tyrannical rule where such people could treat us like their property. Treat Emily like their property.

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about solving problems so violently—about killing people as a solution. Yet in the back of my mind was that vow I had just made before falling asleep.

  (And I’ll do anything to make it happen.)

  “Okay,” I said, picking up the bone machete that I had gotten from Emily’s dead team member. “But you’ll at least have to be present.”

  “Right behind you,” Brooke said. “I’ll help however I can.”

  “Good. Lead the way.” We flew down the escalators, me on the right, Brooke on the left, moving down to the first floor. There were eighty Chosens on that entrance alone, all screaming and yelling and kicking things in rage.