"Congratulations," Ethan said with a grin. "You got it right."

The moment he confirmed it, Garrick's face twisted into a kaleidoscope of disbelief, horror, and something close to awe. A Tier 5 Enhanced—at this stage? It was unthinkable.

But the truth was right in front of him. That barbell swing had shattered his Rockfall like it was made of Styrofoam. No Tier 4 could've done that. Only Tier 5.

"You had your fun," Ethan said, voice turning cold. "Now it's my turn."

He hefted the barbell bar again and charged.

Garrick, drained from summoning that massive boulder, didn't have the juice to cast another Rockfall. Instead, he threw up a thick wall of earth between them, hoping to buy a second.

It didn't help.

Ethan's barbell bar smashed through the wall like it was wet cardboard. Dirt exploded outward, and before Garrick could react, Ethan was already swinging again.

Garrick raised his machete in a desperate block.

CLANG—CRACK!

The blade snapped in half. The barbell bar slammed into Garrick's chest with a sickening thud, launching him backward like a rag doll. He hit the ground hard, blood spraying from his mouth, and didn't move again.

Ethan didn't bother finishing him off. He slung the barbell bar over his shoulder and turned to the rest of the group, sprawled across the ground in various states of pain and panic.

"Anyone still breathing, get your ass up and start collecting crystal cores," he said, voice like steel. "If you can't stand, I'll help you up—with this."

He tapped the barbell bar against the ground.

The threat worked like magic. People who'd been groaning and twitching moments ago suddenly found the strength to stand. Limping, staggering, they dragged themselves to the nearest zombie corpse and started digging.

No one dared complain. This was a Tier 5 monster who'd just flattened Garrick like a pancake. If he decided to swing again, they'd be lucky to end up in one piece.

With over forty people now working, the pace of collection skyrocketed. In less than an hour, every last crystal core had been pulled from the corpses.

"Alright," Ethan said, unzipping his backpack and setting it on the ground. "Time to turn them in."

The group didn't need to be told twice. One by one, they stepped forward and dropped their hard-earned cores into the bag. No one argued. No one hesitated.

They knew the deal. They were labor, nothing more. The loot wasn't theirs.

But just as the first guy finished unloading his stash and turned to leave, Ethan's voice cut through the air.

"Hold up."

The man froze. "Wh-what is it?"

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Left pocket. Two more cores. Planning to keep those?"

The guy's face went pale. "T-those are mine! I had them before—"

"Mine now," Ethan said flatly. "Everything here is mine. You want to keep them, or you want to eat this barbell?"

"I…"

The man looked like he might cry. Those really were his—he'd stashed them days ago, hoping to trade them later. But what could he do? Argue with a Tier 5?

In the end, he reached into his pocket and handed them over, defeated.

After that, the rest got the message. Most handed over everything without a fuss. But there were always a few who thought they were clever, who thought they could hide a core or two in a sock or waistband.

They didn't know Ethan could see through them—literally.

One by one, he called them out. After he made an example of two of them—one with a broken leg, the other with a shattered jaw—the rest fell in line fast.

By the time he zipped up the backpack, every last crystal core was accounted for.

Ethan slung the heavy backpack over his shoulder and looked out at the battered, bruised crowd.

"Alright," he said, voice almost cheerful. "You're probably headed to the Safe Zone, right? Keep going straight for about six miles—you'll hit it."

"Th-thanks…" someone mumbled.

The rest echoed the sentiment, faces long and miserable. If they'd known how this would turn out, they never would've let Garrick back up that damn bus. Now they were limping away with nothing—no crystal cores, no dignity, and a few broken bones for good measure. Worse, some of them had even lost the cores they'd been carrying before this mess. Total loss.

But regret didn't change a thing. All they could do now was hoist Garrick's unconscious body and start dragging him away.

"Wait," Ethan said, pointing. "The rest of you can go. He stays."

They froze.

"This…" one of them started, clearly torn. That was their leader lying there. They couldn't just leave him behind, could they?

"This what?" Ethan said, voice sharpening. "You staying too?"

"Ah—nope! We're going, we're going!"

Without another word, they dropped Garrick like a sack of trash and bolted for the bus.

Leader or not, he was the first one they threw under the bus—literally and figuratively.

The engine roared to life, tires squealed, and the bus shot off like a bat out of hell. This time, it didn't come back.

Chris glanced at Garrick's crumpled form, then at Ethan. "You planning to recruit him?"

Ethan looked down at Garrick, a strange little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Thought about it. His ability's not bad. But it depends—if he's smart, he stays. If not…" He shrugged. "We slice him up and see if we can extract his power."

"…"

The others went quiet. None of them had noticed, but at Ethan's words, Garrick's body gave the faintest twitch.

"Slice him up?" Big Mike swallowed hard. "Damn, Ethan, that's cold."

"Cold or not," Ethan said, "if we figure out how to do it, I'm giving his ability to you."

"To me? Holy shit!" Big Mike's eyes lit up. "Say no more, man. You want him sliced, I'll do it. I used to work at a sushi joint—I'll fillet him thinner than sashimi. You'll have clean samples for days."

Garrick's body went rigid.

Ethan chuckled. "Alright, get him in the truck. We're heading back."

It was still early in the day, but with a wildcard like Garrick in tow, it wasn't worth pushing their luck.

"On it!"

Big Mike was suddenly all enthusiasm. He grabbed Garrick by the arm and hoisted him up like a duffel bag, muttering under his breath, "Hang in there, man. Don't die yet. Ethan's gotta slice you up first. If he figures it out, I get powers too."

He had no idea how deep a psychological scar that line left on Garrick.

The group piled into the vehicle and headed off toward Lakeview Estates.

...

Meanwhile, inside a luxury home in Lakeview Estates, Ray Harlan was deep in conversation.

"Ray! Are you serious?" asked a middle-aged man, eyes gleaming with excitement.

This was Richard Harlan—Ray's uncle and the second-in-command of the Harlan family, just below Victor himself.

"Of course I'm serious," Ray said, a little smug. "Why would I lie to you?"

"This is huge," Richard said, pacing with energy. "We've been desperate for top-tier talent. Six Tier 4s? That's a game-changer. No matter what it takes, we need them on our side."

Ray's expression tightened. "It won't be easy. They're… not exactly the friendly type."

After meeting Ethan and his crew yesterday, Ray had spent the night replaying every moment of the encounter. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. He hadn't gotten a single useful piece of intel out of them. In fact, they'd managed to extract more from him than he'd realized at the time.

And Ray prided himself on being the smartest guy in the room.

That sting still hadn't faded.

...

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