CHAPTER 60: SURVIVAL ISN'T RATIONAL

The gentle creak of the wooden door hadn't even faded when John noticed that Henry and Lucas were still standing at the entrance of the hut. The light from the torches outside flickered on their faces. They didn't seem in any hurry to leave. Their bodies remained tense, posture uncertain, like two children who had seen too much but didn't know how to process it.

Their expressions were a mixture of curiosity and something else, something unspoken. A quiet discomfort hung in the air.

John turned around slowly, catching their eyes. "What's wrong? Is there a problem? Do you need my help?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he studied their expressions.

The question lingered in the silence for a few moments. Henry looked at Lucas. Lucas looked back at Henry. Neither spoke immediately, but something was clearly weighing on them.

Finally, Henry spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"No, it's just... what you did today was really scary."

His words didn't accuse, but neither did they reassure. They simply floated in the air, too real to ignore, too honest to soften.

Lucas nodded quickly, then added, "What if Princes Bernard and Wylder had killed you before you had saved the princess?"

There was no dramatic tone to the question—only pure fear, the kind that settles in the stomach and refuses to leave. The kind that came from witnessing something brutal, unforgettable, and knowing how close someone had come to dying.

John felt a sudden chill trace its way down his spine.

Goosebumps erupted along his arms and neck, the kind that arrived not from cold but from realization—sharp, creeping, undeniable. He hadn't considered that possibility. Not fully.

In his world—his modern world—there were rules. There were laws. There were procedures and appeals and consequences. People weren't killed in the streets by royalty for merely reaching out. Justice came from courts, not swords.

Here, it seemed, justice was swift. Brutal. Final. And delivered by those who had the power to end lives in a blink.

He swallowed hard.

"Yeah, I didn't know they were such executioner-type people," John replied slowly, glancing between Henry and Lucas. His voice had shifted—tinged now not with panic, but with a newfound respect. Or maybe… fear.

"Only after seeing Prince Wylder behead those people did I realize what kind of person he is. From now on, I'll be more careful around them."

It was a vow made more to himself than anyone else. A promise of caution. A line drawn in his mind.

The brothers nodded solemnly, as if silently agreeing. The topic sat heavy in the air until Lucas, perhaps sensing the weight of it all, decided to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"By the way, your stone throw was quite accurate. Are you an archer?" he asked suddenly, his voice laced with admiration. The shift in tone was subtle, but deliberate—a boy's attempt to grasp at normalcy.

John blinked, caught off guard by the question. He let out a small laugh, not of joy, but of modest disbelief.

"No-no, I just practice a little. I don't really know how to shoot arrows properly. I can't even hold it right—it's just that I'm a little decent at it," he replied modestly, shrugging as if the event earlier hadn't changed anything at all.

Deep inside, though, he knew better.

That throw had been guided. It had been too precise, too perfect for someone with no real training. But John couldn't tell them the truth—not yet. Not about the fatty insect, not about the way it had entered his Neuro Core, not about the strange surge of clarity and skill that had come over him in that moment.

So he played it down, brushing it off with the humility of someone who knew how dangerous the truth could be.

Lucas smiled faintly at his response, as if reassured by John's humility. Maybe it made things simpler. Maybe it was easier to believe that what had happened was just luck. A lucky throw, a fortunate moment—not something darker, deeper, or more unnatural.

Outside, the wind stirred, whispering through the tall grasses that lined the pathway. Inside, the room remained dim and quiet. The flickering shadows on the walls seemed to echo the uncertainty still lingering in the minds of all three boys.

The world John had stepped into was nothing like the one he had known. Power was unchallenged, justice was merciless, and danger—real danger—came without warning. Even friendship was uncertain, suspended somewhere between admiration and fear.

But for now, he was safe. At least for tonight.