The Tanker turned toward him again, breathing hard, blood trickling from one nostril. It roared, but there was a delay like the blow had scrambled its senses.
Johnquis shouted,
"Get me up!"
The Runner dropped from above and landed near him. It grabbed the chain, slung it over its back, and pulled.
Johnquis was lifted off the ground, swung like a flail toward the far basketball hoop.
"WRAP!"
The chain latched again.
He swung wide, arcing over the Tanker's head and dropped.
Mid-swing, he twisted the chain, locking it into a loop around the Tanker's throat.
The Runner jumped with him. A perfect double attack.
SLAM!
Both of them struck the Tanker's skull. Runner from the front, Johnquis from above.
CRACK.
A ripple ran down its body.
The Tanker stumbled.
Johnquis shouted,
"HIT IT AGAIN! DON'T STOP!"
The Runner twisted in air and dropped a spinning heel into the same dent.
BOOM!
This time, the skull caved.
The Tanker stopped.
Then collapsed like a fallen statue.
WHUD.
Violet blood poured out from beneath it.
The gym fell silent.
[Feed count: +500]
[Feed count: 12,100/20,000] - Johnquis
[Feed count: +500]
[Feed count: ??????/??????] - ???
Johnquis rolled onto his back, chest heaving.
"We're not dead…"
The Runner lay beside him.
Johnquis let out a shaky laugh.
"Head. Always the damn head."
They didn't move for a while. Just breathed. The chain between them slack, soaked in blood.
A screen flashed in Johnquis's vision.
[Quest Complete]
[Difficulty: F Tier]
[Status: Solo]
[Quest Time]
[2 hours and 53 minutes]
[Score: ★★★★★ (5/5)]
[Feed Count Gain]
[+2100]
[Previous: 10,000→ Current: 12,100 (+2100)]
[Score: ★★★★★ (5/5)]
[Damage Taken]
[Injury: Major wounds]
[Score: ★★☆ ☆☆(2/5)]
[Final star rating: ★★★★☆ (4 out of 5)]
Johnquis sat with his back against the gym wall, staring up at the metal rafters above. The basketball hoop creaked in the draft, one side hanging by a single bent bolt. All around him, the gym was a wreck. Floor cracked, ceiling scorched, blood smeared across the court like paint.
The Tanker's broken body still lay slumped in the far corner, steam rising from where its head had been caved in. He could smell burnt flesh. Violet blood sizzled on the scorched wood.
His whole body pulsed with pain. He muttered,
"Ugh… so that Tanker was the last Eater here."
Dragging off his glove and shaking the blood off.
"He better be. If there's still more, I might fail this mission. Damn… my body's killing me."
The chain between him and the Runner rattled faintly. It had coiled itself loosely on the ground during the last strike, now slowly retracting to its neutral tension.
The Runner sat on the bleachers, one foot resting on a bench, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. Its shoulder was still bleeding, but the wound had begun to close.
Johnquis glanced at it. Then at the cracked gym floor, the smashed entrance, the hole in the ceiling.
Breathing heavy, he said,
"Hey…" "Still with me?"
The Runner blinked slowly, then gave a small nod.
"Good. Because I don't wanna be the only one limping outta here."
He winced as he pulled himself up with the help of a mangled scoreboard post. His right foot still throbbed, definitely broken but his regeneration was kicking in now. The suit's nanoweave had already begun to stabilize the bone, patching flesh, resetting tendons.
Looking at the Runner, he said,
"You know, it's weird. An Eater helping me… We were trained to wipe you out. Now I'm working with one. Life's getting weird."
He exhaled slowly and slid back down to the floor.
"But... with you here, things felt easier. If you hadn't shown up, I probably wouldn't have made it. And… I don't know. Talking to you, even a little, it makes this nightmare feel… less alone."
He pulled his knees in, sighing.
"So let's rest until we're healed."
His eyelids dropped. Muscles relaxed. The pain, exhaustion, and silence took over.
Johnquis slept.
"Hey…"
"Hey…"
"Hey!"
Johnquis opened his eyes. Sunlight poured over his face, warm and blinding. He squinted, wiped his eyes, and saw a girl standing over him.
"How long are you gonna sleep, big brother? We need to help Nana prepare lunch!"
He blinked slowly, confused for a moment. Then he smiled.
"Oh—right. Sorry, Jiana. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Come on! Get your lazy toes up!"
She grabbed his wrist and pulled. For someone so small, she was surprisingly strong.
"You're really strong. Even with those tiny hands. Like a little gorilla."
"HEY! Stop teasing me!"
Johnquis laughed, shaking the sleep from his head.
They ran together, barefoot through the soft grass, the towering cathedral in the distance bathed in golden light.
The cathedral stood tall in front of them. Weathered stone and cracked stained glass. Ivy crawled along the walls. A few birds fluttered from the bell tower as the two children approached the wide, creaking wooden doors.
Johnquis pushed one open. It groaned like always.
Inside, the faint scent of soup and smoke lingered in the air. A few younger kids were still curled up on the pews with threadbare blankets. One of them peeked up, rubbed their eyes, and saw the pair walking in.
"Morning, big brother… Morning, big sister…"
Jiana waved with a soft smile.
At the altar, a man in priest-like robes lighting a stub of wax on a rusted holder, the flame flickering against his wrinkled face. He turned when he heard their bare feet padding softly across the old stone floor.
"Ah, the sun's two favorite mischief-makers, up and about."
Jiana greeted politely, hands behind her back.
"Morning, Father Jose."
Johnquis gave a sleepy wave.
"You're late. Nana's already banged the pot twice."
"We overslept."
"Mmm. You know she doesn't believe in second warnings. You better go before she turns that ladle into a spear."
Johnquis chuckled.
"Thanks for the warning, Father."
As they ducked through the side door, Father Jose called softly,
"Let the world outside burn… but may this old house always smell of soup and laughter."
The wooden door creaked shut behind them as they entered the dim hallway. Dust floated in the sunlight leaking through small cracks in the ceiling.
They stepped into the kitchen, a low-ceilinged stone room lined with old cabinets and two wood-burning stoves. Steam hissed from a giant pot in the corner. And there she was, Nana. Stooped over a chopping board with a rusted cleaver in her hand, apron covered in flour and broth stains, her silver hair tied in a loose bun.
"You two finally decided to join the living?"
"Sorry, Nana."
"Sleep's a luxury for folks who don't need to chop vegetables."
She pointed the cleaver toward the counter.
"Get to it. And don't you dare mess up the carrots again, Jiana."
"That was one time!"
"One very mushy time."
Johnquis grabbed the basket of potatoes. Jiana took the carrots. Side by side, they began peeling in silence, only the sound of the fire crackling and blades tapping the cutting board filling the room.
Jiana whispered,
"You think it'll be stew again?"
"It's always stew."
"Maybe someday we'll get something fancy. Like roasted meat. Or those spiced rice balls they talked about in the upper towns."
The chopping went on for nearly half an hour. Carrots, potatoes, onions, soft vegetables that had barely held together in the baskets were all peeled and tossed into the bubbling pot. Jiana wiped her forehead with her sleeve. Her hands were stained orange.
Johnquis stirred the stew slowly with the long-handled wooden ladle, careful not to spill. Nana hovered behind them, occasionally sniffing the pot, muttering to herself, adding a pinch of salt or dried herbs from the little tins she kept on the shelf.
The air in the kitchen warmed with the scent of cooking broth.
"Not bad, still thin. But that's not your fault. That's the world's."
She turned, walked over to a cabinet, and pulled out old tin bowls most dented, some slightly cracked. She handed six to Johnquis, six to Jiana.
"Serve it while it's hot. And don't give the big kids more than the little ones. You hear me?"
Both of them said at once.
"Yes, Nana."
They left the kitchen and walked back into the cathedral's wide main hall.