The road to the Black Towers stretched before them like an open wound across the dead land.
They walked all day beneath the heavy gray sky, each step reminding them of their broken bodies. Kaizen's shoulder throbbed with a sick heat, the flesh around the wound turning a pale yellow that warned of infection. Lira's thigh bled slowly despite the tight bandage, and every step sent pain lashing up her spine like burning whips.
They didn't speak much. Words consumed energy—and in this world, energy was more valuable than old gold.
Kaizen moved forward with steady steps despite the pain, his eyes scanning both the horizon and the ground. Lira walked beside him, her axe resting on her good shoulder, her face pale as ash.
By midday, they stopped near a cracked boulder to rest.
Kaizen pulled out a single can of food, opened it with his knife, and divided it into two nearly equal portions. They ate in silence. The cold meat tasted metallic and rotten, but it kept them alive.
After eating, Kaizen checked his wound. He carefully lifted the bandage.
The stench came immediately.
The flesh around It was swollen, leaking thin yellow pus. He touched it with his finger and felt the heat.
"Infection's started," he said flatly. "If we don't find medicine—or cut out the dead flesh tomorrow—I lose the arm. Or I die."
Lira looked at his wound, then at her own thigh. Hers was less severe, but still bleeding.
"The powder we took from those three men… we only have a little left," she said.
"We use it tonight. Today—we move."
They stood and continued walking.
The wind carried the scent of ash and distant death.
Far ahead, a black cloud moved slowly along the ground. Not rain—mutated rats. Their bodies were oversized, their patchy black fur glistening under the dim light. They passed far from them, but the stench still reached.
By evening, the rain began to fall.
It wasn't clean rain.
It was heavy, gray—carrying ash and radiation. It soaked their ragged clothes and made their wounds burn worse. Kaizen raised a piece of cloth over his head. Lira did the same.
"We don't sleep in the open," Kaizen said. "Moisture makes it worse."
After an hour of searching, they found a small cave in the side of a collapsed hill. The entrance was narrow, but it sheltered them from wind and rain.
They entered carefully.
Kaizen lit a small flame from dry wood they found inside.
The cave was tight, damp, and foul-smelling.
Kaizen took out the white powder and began treating his wound. Each touch sent sharp pain through him—he bit his lip until it bled. He poured the powder over it, then wrapped it with fresh cloth.
Lira did the same.
She screamed once when the powder touched her wound—then went silent, breathing hard.
Kaizen slept first, his knife in hand.
Two hours later, he woke to take watch.
Lira was sitting up, staring into the flame with empty eyes.
"Sleep," he told her.
"I can't… the fever's starting."
He touched her forehead.
Hot.
He gave her water and forced her to drink. Then she slept. He stayed awake.
At midnight, he heard something outside.
Soft footsteps.
Heavy breathing.
Kaizen stood quietly, knife raised, and stepped out of the cave.
A man stood about ten meters away.
Thin. Hair falling out. Hollow eyes. Holding a sharpened wooden stick.
He froze when he saw Kaizen.
"Don't… don't kill me," the man said, voice shaking. "I'm just looking for food. I haven't seen anyone in days."
Kaizen studied him.
Weak. Not a real threat.
"What's your name?"
"D-Daran."
"Where are you from?"
"A camp… east. A gang destroyed it a week ago. I escaped alone."
Kaizen stepped closer.
"Do you know the way to the Black Towers?"
Daran nodded quickly. "Yes… I passed near them a month ago. People live in the ruins. Not a large group—but they kill strangers."
Kaizen glanced back toward the cave—toward Lira.
Then back at Daran.
"You're coming with us. You guide us. In return—you get food and water. Try to betray us…"
He paused.
"I'll kill you slowly."
Daran trembled. "I—I agree. Just don't leave me alone."
Kaizen brought him inside.
He woke Lira. She watched the stranger carefully, but didn't object.
They gave Daran a small piece of food and water. He devoured it, shaking from hunger.
Daran slept in the corner. Lira returned to sleep.
Kaizen stayed awake.
Watching.
He knew adding someone new was dangerous.
But he needed a guide.
And worst case…
Daran could become food.
Morning came.
Lira's fever had worsened. Kaizen's wound hurt more.
He gave Daran a bit of the powder for a small cut on his hand.
The three of them set out together.
Daran walked slightly ahead, guiding them away from heavily irradiated zones. He talked a lot—stories of destroyed camps, cannibal gangs, places rumored to have clean water.
Kaizen listened.
Silently.
Lira struggled more with every step.
By midday, they reached a wide area filled with piles of rusted cars stacked like metal graves.
Dangerous ground.
Anything could be hiding.
Then—
Voices.
Screams.
The sound of axes striking flesh.
They hid behind a pile of cars.
Through a narrow gap, Kaizen saw five men attacking two women and a small child.
Cannibals.
Blood-stained hides. Heavy axes.
The women fought fiercely—but they were weakening.
The child cried behind one of them.
Kaizen looked at Lira and Daran.
"We don't move. Not our problem."
But Lira's eyes locked on the child.
"The child…"
"The child dies today or tomorrow," Kaizen said coldly. "We don't waste strength."
Daran trembled. "They're the same gang that destroyed my camp…"
Before Kaizen could respond—
Lira moved.
She burst from cover, axe raised, shouting in fury.
Kaizen cursed under his breath and followed.
Daran stayed hidden.
The clash was brutal.
Lira struck the first man—his shoulder—but he turned and punched her down.
Kaizen lunged.
His blade drove deep Into the man's back—once, twice.
Two others attacked him.
One struck his injured arm—
Pain exploded.
Kaizen screamed—but killed the first with a throat stab, the second with a blade through the eye.
Lira rose again, slow but furious.
She crippled one man, then split his skull.
The last two tried to flee.
Kaizen chased one down and finished him.
The other died by one of the women.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
The women looked at them cautiously. One held the crying child.
"Who are you?" the older woman asked.
"Survivors," Kaizen said. "We take what we need—and leave."
Lira stepped closer to the child.
"Don't leave him," she said weakly. "He'll die alone."
Kaizen's gaze hardened.
"He's a burden."
"I'll give him my share."
Silence.
Then Kaizen looked at the women.
"Take your child. Leave. Don't follow us."
They took weapons and left quickly.
Kaizen, Lira, and Daran scavenged what they could.
Knives. Food. Water.
Kaizen turned to Lira.
Cold anger.
"This is the first and last time. You play hero again—you do it alone."
Lira stared back, fever burning in her eyes.
"Maybe I'll leave you when you become the burden."
Kaizen smiled.
"Better that way."
They kept walking.
Daran was quiet now.
Afraid.
By evening, Lira's fever worsened. She stumbled, seeing things that weren't there.
Kaizen carried part of her gear.
That night, they found shelter in the ruins of a half-buried building.
They lit a small fire.
Lira shivered.
"I feel like… I'll die tonight."
"You won't," Kaizen said, cleaning his wound again. "Infection hasn't hit the blood yet. Tomorrow—we reach the towers."
But inside—
He calculated.
If she slows down too much…
Would he leave her?
Daran slept.
Lira slept.
Kaizen stayed awake.
Listening to the wind.
Thinking about the road ahead.
The Black Towers weren't the end.
Just another stop…
In a world where survival never ends.
At dawn, Lira was still breathing.
But paler.
Worse.
Kaizen stood. Looked at Daran.
Then at Lira.
"Today—we reach the towers," he said coldly. "Anyone who falls behind… stays."
He picked up his gear.
And walked.