13# Only Survivors

The tears had stopped... not because the pain was gone, but because there were simply no more tears left to fall. Clint knelt on the bloodstained ground — blood from others… and his own. His eyes were empty, his body trembling, breath shallow.

— "Get up. We're leaving. There's a lot to do." — Darius's voice came sharp, firm — as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than routine.

For a few seconds, Clint didn't move. He gasped for air like his very existence was being stitched together with each breath. His arms were heavy, his hands shaking... but still, he forced himself to stand.

His gaze drifted toward the cages nearby, and the bitter question slipped from his throat, ragged and dry.

— "And... the slaves... what... what do I do with them?"

Darius didn't even glance in their direction. Walking past Clint, lighting a rough cigarette made from local leaves, he answered with absolute indifference:

— "Do whatever you want with them. They're your problem, not mine."

Clint clenched his fists. His eyes scanned the prisoners — fragile bodies, hollow eyes filled with both terror and desperate hope. Men, women... even a few children. Most of them had lost everything — except the will to live.

Without a word, Clint knelt next to one of the dead slavers, searching until he found a set of keys dangling from the man's belt. He marched straight to the first cage, shoved the key into the lock, and turned it. Clack. The door creaked open.

— "You're free." — His voice was hoarse, devoid of emotion.

Silence. Just for a moment. Then… voices erupted.

— "T-Thank you, sir!"

— "May the gods bless you!"

— "I... I thought I would die here..."

Some fell to their knees before him. Others grabbed his trembling hands, crying, thanking him desperately. But Clint just stared back at them... with eyes as cold as winter steel. No rage. No mercy. Nothing.

— "Go. Get out of here. Before I change my mind." — His words were sharp as a blade.

He didn't wait for a reply. Didn't look back. He simply turned and walked in the direction Darius had gone.

The path ahead twisted through the forest — branches bending like twisted tunnels, dry leaves crunching beneath their boots. The forest felt alive... whispering, watching… breathing.

Darius, a few meters ahead, didn't even glance back as he gave his next command:

— "Activate your Mantra. Keep it active as you walk."

Clint blinked, stunned.

— "The entire time...?"

Darius let out a dry, cruel chuckle.

— "The entire time. If you want to survive, get used to it. If you can't even keep your Mantra running while walking... then you might as well crawl back to that filthy alley where you were found and starve to death."

Clint gritted his teeth, biting down the frustration. He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. Focused. Flow. That warmth… that subtle heat sparked inside his muscles, like warm electricity. His skin tingled, his heartbeat roared — the Mantra surged.

A faint, wavering aura shimmered around his body like heat rising off stone.

The first step... heavy. His muscles screamed. Every fiber demanded more energy than he thought possible. His legs trembled, but he bit down and pressed forward.

— "Why... is this... so damn heavy...?" — he muttered, sweat dripping.

Darius glanced over his shoulder, a crooked grin on his face.

— "Because keeping the Mantra active isn't just about turning it on. It's about control. You're forcing your energy to flow nonstop. Think of it like holding bare wires to keep a lightbulb on. It burns. It drains you. It hurts. But… when you adapt... it becomes part of you."

Clint didn't answer. Just walked. One step. Another. His body was screaming, but he refused to fall.

The silence wrapped around them again, broken only by the rustling leaves and Clint's ragged breath.

— "From today forward…" — Darius finally broke the silence, walking without looking back. — "You're not a street rat. You're not a noble. Not a beggar. From today... you are simply... a survivor. Just like me. Just like everyone in this rotten world."

Clint clenched his fists tighter, sweat pouring down his chin, staining the dirt below.

— "A... survivor, huh…" — he muttered under his breath, bitterly.

Darius laughed — that rough, almost animalistic laugh.

— "You'll understand soon... kid. You'll understand very soon."

And so they walked... deeper into the shadows of that forest.