March part two

After the alarm sounded, I couldn’t help but worry about my nephews—I had no idea where they were. I was climbing a staircase alongside Prescott, leading us to what appeared to be a watchtower. I tried to ask him about my nephews, but he spoke first.

“Relax, they’re safe in the storage room. The ultras are protecting them,” he said with complete calmness, staring straight ahead.

It was as if he had read my mind. Was that his power?

“No, my power isn’t mind-reading. I’m just very intuitive,” he added subtly.

“Uh-huh.” I decided not to believe him just yet. This whole place still felt off to me. But for now, it was the safest place we could be—or so I thought.

When we reached the top, we had a full view of the battlefield.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” he said, gazing at the wasteland.

Yeah, he’s absolutely insane. Who in their right mind would find a horde of monsters beautiful? They were rushing toward this place at full speed, and they looked stronger than ever. It was the first time I had seen them acting as a group. There was every kind of horror—monsters engulfed in flames, hairy humanoids, reptilian-skinned creatures, and some emitting a strange smoke. A whole array of atrocities. I couldn’t see how a bunch of kids could handle them.

“Relax. This place is DreamGuard. We’ve stayed safe for a year.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You’ll see,” he said with confidence and an air of superiority.

On top of the walls, teenagers began preparing for battle. Among them, I spotted Mark and Tiara. But none of them carried weapons. Just in case, I grabbed a sniper rifle I found in the tower, allowing me to observe the situation more clearly.

“You can keep it. Looks like someone forgot to check the tower for dangerous items. I suppose someone will be punished,” he said with his ever-present smirk.

The moment the wave of ultramutants approached, the light show began. The teenagers on the walls unleashed their powers upon the monsters—fire, ice, electricity, all kinds of energy erupted from their hands. The mutants were no match for them and began to fall one by one.

Tiara had rocks in her hands that, when thrown, transformed into bullets, explosives, and other projectiles. It seemed like she could transmute objects. Terrifying. I hoped that ability didn’t work on humans. Meanwhile, Mark vanished from the wall, dashing into the battlefield at high speed. He was hard to follow, but a fleeting yellow glow marked his path. Wherever he passed, mutants collapsed to the ground, and Tiara finished them off. It looked like he knocked them down at super speed, giving her the perfect opening to take them out.

But I noticed something no one else seemed to. Mark’s leg was still in bad shape, and he was slowing down. Prescott knew it, yet he sent him into battle anyway. And soon, my fears came true.

Mark slipped, and a group of mutants began surrounding him. Unfortunately, he was too far away for most to help him. Even with their powerful abilities, they were unstable.

That’s why, as I always say, nothing beats my bullets.

Five shots rang out across the battlefield. The mutants around Mark fell, blood spilling from their heads. Prescott, who stood in front of me, turned around and saw the smoke rising from my rifle.

“Tch, these mutants... They shouldn’t be underestimated,” I muttered, reloading.

“I see you know what you’re doing. A guy like you would be useful to us.”

“Taking care of two kids is enough for me. I couldn’t handle an entire base full of them. Speaking of which, that one needs help,” I said, nodding toward Mark, who was still on the ground, wounded.

“Ah, right. I suppose it’s my turn,” the small commander said casually, his eyes turning completely white as he raised one hand toward the sky.

Suddenly, white flashes rained down, striking both the remaining monsters and Mark. In an instant, the creatures vanished, leaving behind only the dead ultramutants and the blood-soaked battlefield.

“I always take care of the strongest ones at the end,” he said, blowing on his hands.

That power—it was as if God himself had intervened. Only, instead of God, he seemed more like the devil playing god on Earth.

Still… what the hell just happened?

“Where did you send them? Did you kill them? Did you just kill Lightspeed?!” I couldn’t stop myself from shouting, my rifle now aimed at him.

“Haha, everyone reacts like that at first. Relax, I just teleported them—far enough away. As for Mark, if I were you, I’d turn around.”

I did, and there he was—standing as if nothing had happened, though he was limping from his injury.

“I’m fine, Jason,” he reassured me.

“Thank God… But seriously, what is that technique, little commander? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I looked at Prescott with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Relax. It has its limitations. You’ll figure them out sooner or later. But for now, it’ll be my little secret. Now, let’s head to the office. I’m sure you have more questions. As for you, Mark—get to cleaning.”

The moment Prescott spoke those words, Mark took off running again, despite his injury. It seemed that no matter what, he would follow his leader’s orders without hesitation.

From up here, I watched as a streak of yellow light darted across the battlefield, erasing every trace of blood. That explained why there was no lingering scent of blood in this place—and why it was so eerily peaceful.

The ultramutants feared this place, but they still needed to feed. Their favorite prey was children, so they would keep coming in waves. But so far, none had succeeded.

And the reason why there were no bloodstains? That was because of Mark.

But I still didn’t know why.

Upon arriving at the office, Prescott pulled out a cigar and lit it.

"A good smoke always helps after a battle," he said, stretching his legs on the desk.

I was surprised to see him smoking, considering how strictly he had forbidden me from doing so earlier. I guess he only avoids it in front of the kids. Suddenly, he started coughing violently.

"If I were you, I’d quit smoking. Trust me, especially at your age," I warned him. "I may be good with guns, but my endurance is a disaster because of these things."

"I know," he admitted. "It’s just… my father always smoked these after a battle." He took another puff before glancing at me. "Yours seem more like my style. Mind sharing one?"

"Nope, I only have a few left. I’m not wasting them on kids playing at being adults," I replied, opening my case. "So, will you answer my questions?"

"Oh, right." He seemed to have been hoping I’d forget about them. "Where should I start?"

"How about where the hell I am?" I raised my voice.

"This military base used to belong to an elite government unit," Prescott began. "They had the authority to carry out missions without government approval. They were called the Dreamers. All the kids here are their children. Before the whole powers situation began, they brought us here to protect us from the outside world. Everything was fine for six months until a supposedly powerful ultramutant started wreaking havoc nearby. They feared he would come here, so they set out on an expedition to kill him. But after a month, not a single one of them returned… except for my father, Commander Lickert. He was badly injured and sick. He told me that they had all died in battle and that under no circumstances should we leave this place. He said we had to protect the children, their happiness, and their dreams. He had a stash of PowerMax pills for emergencies. We had no choice—it was our only way to survive. I gave them to the older kids, the ones strong enough to handle them. Thanks to that, we can defend ourselves. Mark can carry out food expeditions quickly, Tiara can restructure and build new facilities, Chuck—the big guy at the gate—has the ability to make the base invisible to outsiders, and I step in when things get tough during the waves."

"I see," I muttered. "I don’t blame you. As much as I hate ultras, at least you had a damn good reason. But… none of you have developed mutations? Everyone who takes that pill eventually turns into something unrecognizable."

"Tell me," he said, leaning forward slightly, "have you ever seen a young ultramutant?"

I frowned. "Now that you mention it… no."

"Exactly. PowerMax warned that children should never take the pill, which is why there are so few of them. That led us to a theory: that minors don’t mutate—or at least, they do so at a much slower rate."

The moment he said that, my mind exploded with thoughts. I thought of my nephews. Having abilities like these would be useful on our journey; they could protect themselves. But I could never give them that pill. I don’t want power going to their heads like it did to the so-called "perfect leader" standing in front of me. They need to remain human, to accept themselves as they are—not play at being gods.

"Do the kids outside know?" I asked. "About their parents?"

"No. And I have no intention of telling them. It’s better this way. I told them their parents would return in a year."

"But by then…"

Boom. The world as we know it will be over.

"I know," Prescott admitted. "But their dreams must be kept alive for as long as possible. I made a promise to my father. They don’t even know about the ultras, or that we have powers. When a wave comes, we tell them it’s a storm and send them to the storage room. So I need you to tell your nephews not to say too much in front of the others."

"But they deserve the truth," I tried to reason with him. "What kind of dreams can they chase in here, locked up like animals? They need to see the outside world and live life to the fullest while they still can. With your power, they have nothing to fear out there."

"Dreams aren’t always meant to come true," he said, standing up and walking toward the door. "Sometimes, it’s better for them to stay just that—dreams. Rather than thinking about the doom that’s coming in a few months. I see we don’t share the same perspective, Jason." He opened the door. "And to think, I was going to offer you the position of my lieutenant. An adult would’ve been useful here. But the deal remains—you can stay for two weeks, in exchange for helping out around the base. After that, you leave, and we never see each other again. Goodnight. Tiara will show you your rooms—and please, take a bath."

I sniffed my armpit. Yeah, a bath wouldn’t hurt. But I wasn’t about to let myself be fooled by the words of a kid I had twenty years on.

"This isn’t over," I warned him, locking eyes with him, staring deep into his soul to see him for who he truly was.

And so, time passed. My nephews enjoyed their time here. Rick never stopped playing sports, and Andrew spent his days reading every book in the library, charming all the girls with his intelligence. As for me, I did simple chores—watch duty, cooking, cleaning. It was torture. I couldn’t even eat much because nearly all the food went to the kids, who ate three full meals a day like we were still living in the old world. My only joy came at night when I played cards with Chuck, Mark, and Tiara. They weren’t bad people. I just couldn’t understand how they got along with their leader. Every time I brought it up, the room went silent. They seemed to agree with him—but deep down, I think they feared his power. No one wanted to end up teleported to the bottom of the ocean… if he could actually do that.

Prescott spent his days playing with the kids, especially my nephews, who were practically eating out of his hand. But at night, he would disappear. He always went into a hidden underground room, locked behind a door. After two weeks, I managed to steal the key—but by then, it was too late. We were leaving the next day, and I wasn’t sure if it was even worth it.

That night, I lay in bed while my nephews talked in the ones next to mine.

"Hey, guys… are you going to miss this place?" I interrupted their conversation.

I couldn’t help but wonder if they liked it here more than the outside. If Prescott’s theory was right… then maybe they wanted to stay forever instead of continuing our journey.

"Hmm, well, it is a comfortable and fun place, but honestly…" Andrew began.

"It’s boring!!" Rick shouted, frustrated. "I was already itching to leave! I’m tired of being the best at every sport here. There’s no challenge like outside. And we get to spend more time with you out there."

"For once, I agree with Rick," Andrew admitted. "The people here are pretty basic. There’s not much to talk about, and we couldn’t even mention the outside world, which made it hard. Prescott is a gentile man, but… something about him feels off. He won’t stop talking about our dreams."

"Hah! I always suspected him," Rick said excitedly. "That’s why I always follow Rule Number Two of the Carson Code."

"Never trust an ultra," I muttered to myself.

Damn. These kids really make me proud. Prescott’s theory just fell apart. These two have been through hell outside, and even though this place is a paradise, they still prefer the hell. The others deserve to make that choice too. My mind was set.

"Always follow your instincts," I recited aloud the rule number three.

With that, I left my room, telling the boys to stay put. I headed for the little commander’s secret room.

As I descended the dark stairs behind the door, I turned on my flashlight—and what I saw revealed the true nature of DreamGuard.

This wasn’t a paradise.

It was a hell far worse than the outside.

Cages. Ultramutants writhing in agony, parts of their bodies missing.

As I tried to piece together what was happening, footsteps echoed behind me.

"I see you found out," a voice said.

I turned.

Prescott.

The little commander. Or rather—the little devil himself.