How About We Walk?

***

That night, sleep was a distant illusion.

I lay in bed, staring at the faint, flickering lights of the city filtering through my window blinds. The hum of the air filtration system filled the silence, steady and rhythmic, like a mechanical heartbeat.

Serena’s fiery ambition and Kael’s self-imposed isolation gnawed at my thoughts, but neither compared to the icy dread that settled in my chest when I thought about Liora.

The image of her pale face, the black spots crawling across her skin, and her trembling voice echoed relentlessly in my mind. She had insisted on going home, saying she needed time—time to meditate, time to rest, time to realign herself.

I couldn’t argue with her. Maybe she was right. Maybe a balanced diet and some quiet moments away from the sterile fluorescence of the hospital could help.

But deep down, I knew it wouldn’t.

We had been exposed to something—something ancient and incompatible with the world we lived in now.

It was inside us now, working in ways even the most advanced scientists couldn’t predict. The thought of it—something so ordinary to our ancestors—felt like poison seeping through our veins.

But… what about me?

I hadn’t felt anything strange. No black spots, no greedy ambitions, no longing for isolation.

Was it just a matter of time? Or was something festering deep inside me, waiting for the right moment to surface?

I sighed, running a hand down my face.

And then it hit me—Toren.

I hadn’t seen him in weeks.

I sat up, the bedsheet pooling around my waist. My air-display blinked to life with a swipe of my hand, illuminating my room in cool blue tones.

I tapped in a message to Toren.

[Hey. Are you home? I’m coming over in the morning.]

The message hung on "Delivered" but never switched to "Read."

As I tried to shake it off, exhaustion finally dragged me into a restless sleep.

***

The first rays of sunlight spilled through the edges of my blinds, painting golden streaks across my bedroom walls. I blinked against the light, letting out a deep breath as I pushed myself upright.

But the moment my weight shifted to my legs, a sharp, piercing pain shot through my right knee.

“Ah—!” I hissed, clutching the joint instinctively.

The pain was brief, but it left a dull ache lingering beneath the skin, like a warning whisper from my body.

“Damn… I must’ve gone rusty,” I muttered, flexing my leg experimentally. “No exercise since quitting the Wood Hunter job. Guess it’s catching up with me.”

The thought sat heavy in my mind as I rubbed my knee absentmindedly, but then I remembered what I meant to do first thing in the morning.

I swiped open the holographic chat interface hovering by my nightstand. A small green notification blinked at the top corner of the screen.

[Sure, I’ll wait for you at home!]

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. At least Toren was responding.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled over to the e-wardrobe, the glass interface lighting up as it scanned me. With a soft chime, pre-selected outfits flickered onto the screen.

“Casual, but presentable,” I murmured as I tapped on an option.

Thin metallic arms extended from the wardrobe’s frame, swiftly dressing me in fitted pants and a simple black jacket over a crisp white shirt. The fabric adjusted itself snugly against my shoulders and torso, seamless and precise.

“I have to get the newer version of this e-wardrobe… Those mechanic arms are not cutting it anymore.”

As I turned toward the full-length mirror to inspect myself, something stopped me cold.

For a moment, I just stared at my reflection.

My eyes darted from detail to detail—the way my cheekbones seemed slightly more pronounced than before. But it wasn’t just that.

There, hidden amidst the vibrant purple strands of my hair, were even more grey threads. Not one or two—but several.

I leaned closer to the mirror, fingers brushing against my temple.

“And what’s this…?”

The skin around my eyes looked faintly wrinkled, delicate creases catching the morning light.

“Damn… must be the lack of sleep,” I said aloud, dismissing the reflection entirely as I had more important things to do.

I tore my gaze away from the mirror, letting out a deep breath as I grabbed my airboard.

***

“There he is! Zehn the Worrywart!”

Toren’s voice boomed as he spotted me from his doorstep, his grin wide and confident. He looked good—too good, even with the scar across his left eye. His skin practically glowed with health, his physique was sharp and defined, and his posture carried an air of unshakable self-assurance. The lack of hair on his head finalized his intimidating look.

“Have you been working out lately?” I asked, half-joking but also genuinely curious.

“Sure have! Gotta keep these guns polished!” He flexed his biceps dramatically, earning a chuckle from me.

“Nice to hear it. So, how are you feeling? Have you been going to your regular check-ups?”

“Yup! The doctor said there’s nothing wrong with me. In fact, he said my health is at 120%!”

I snorted softly. “Pretty sure that’s not how percentages work, but I’ll take it. That’s our muscle boy.”

I gave his chest a light tap, and he puffed it out proudly.

“So, should we go for a ride?”

“Actually,” Toren said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, “I haven’t done my cardio today. How about we walk instead?”

“Walking, huh? Alright, fair enough. I’ve been thinking I need to start moving more anyway.”

We stored our airboards in Toren’s garage and began strolling down the winding pathways of his residential district.

The neighborhood was serene, with well-kept gardens bordering every pathway and hovering maintenance drones quietly trimming unruly branches. Neighbors we passed along the way greeted Toren with bows, nods, and respectful smiles.

“They love me,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Who wouldn’t?” I replied. “You’re one of the heroes who helped ensure humanity’s prosperous era continues.”

“Of course! I’m something like a god to peasants like them, haha!”

We both laughed, though his words left a faint, uncomfortable aftertaste.

As we walked further, airboards zipped above our heads, their sleek frames catching the sunlight as they disappeared into the city skyline.

“Look at them up there,” Toren said, his voice edged with disdain. “Thinking they can float above us, the heroes who secured their peace.”

“You’re the one who suggested walking, Mr. Hero,” I replied with a smirk.

For a while, we chatted about meaningless things—daily routines, silly memories from our Wood Hunter days—but as the walk continued, I noticed something.

My legs started to feel heavy, my breath slightly uneven. A dull ache settled in my knees, and every step felt a little more deliberate.

“What’s going on, man?” Toren said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “You used to haul Biocores like they were twigs, and now you’re wheezing after a few kilometers? Looks like someone’s been slacking!”

“Give me a break. We haven’t exactly had a ton of work lately,” I shot back, trying to mask the discomfort in my voice.

In my distraction, I didn’t notice the woman walking past us until our shoulders brushed slightly.

“Ah, sorry about that,” I said quickly, raising a hand in apology.

But Toren didn’t share my lighthearted reaction.

His hand shot out, grabbing the woman by her collar and pulling her to a stop.

“Hey! Who do you think you are?!” Toren’s voice was sharp, his brow furrowed deeply.

“Toren!” I stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension. “It’s fine, it was my fault. Let her go.”

“I—I’m so sorry!” the woman stammered, her wide eyes glistening with fear.

“Silence!” Toren barked, his face inches from hers. “Do you know who you just bumped into? It’s thanks to us, the Wood Hunters that you’re even standing here, breathing this precious air!”

“Toren, stop!” I grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “You’re scaring her!”

The woman broke free, stumbling backward before running down the street, her sobs echoing faintly behind her.

Toren shrugged me off, his jaw tight and his eyes wild.

“Insolent bug,” he muttered under his breath, squinting his dark eyes.

“What the hell was that?” I said, stepping in front of him. “We’re not Wood Hunters anymore. That job is done. You don’t get to act like you’re above everyone else.”

He stared at me, his expression hard and unreadable. Then, just as quickly, his face relaxed, and he laughed—a hollow, sharp sound.

“Relax, Zehn. Don’t get so worked up. Come on, let’s keep walking.”

But I couldn’t shake the unease curling in my gut. Toren had always been a little brash, a little cocky—but this? This was something else entirely.

Something was changing inside him.

Something wasn’t right.

Our walk eventually brought us to Skypark, the district Serena had claimed for her dream.

Hovering advertisements projected colorful banners into the air, but one stood out prominently above the entrance to her building:

‘FREE MANUALLY MADE MEAL FOR EVERYONE — ONLY TODAY!’

The skeletal structure I had seen before was now fully built, furnished, and alive with faint chatter from within.

We stepped inside. The atmosphere was cozy, with warm lighting, metallic tables and faint traces of spices hanging in the air.

Behind the counter stood Serena, her sleeves rolled up, her piercing blue eyes locked onto the dish she was preparing.

“Welcome to Serena’s Heavenland! How can I serve you today?” she said without looking up.

“Hey, Serena!” Toren greeted her, his voice booming.

She glanced up briefly, one brow arched. “Ah, it’s you… You’ve bulked up, I see.”

Without waiting for more conversation, she turned her attention to a young couple sitting nearby—southern tourists, their sun-kissed skin marking them as visitors from warmer regions of Worlderia.

She handed them their meal, her tone professional, her movements precise.

Once they finished and left, the restaurant grew quiet again.

“So, still serving food for free?” I asked, leaning against the counter.

“Just for today,” Serena said, wiping her hands on a towel. “Tomorrow, I’ll start charging. Fair’s fair.”

“And you should charge those Southern pests double,” Toren added casually, crossing his hairy arms over his chest.

Silence.

Serena froze mid-motion, her eyes flicking up to meet his before she let out a small chuckle.

My stomach tightened as I stared at Toren, my breath catching in my throat.

It wasn’t just arrogance anymore—it was contempt.

It was as if he genuinely believed he was superior, that he deserved more because of who he was and what he’d done.

I couldn’t look at him anymore.

Something inside Toren was unraveling—something dark, something primal.

And just like with Liora… just like with Serena…

The cracks were beginning to show.

Chapter 6: END